Love and Old Black Shoes
by persephonella
Summary: After Fred's death, the family falls apart. A suicidal Percy gives himself a year to be the best brother he could be… before he kills himself. He vows to get Molly out of bed, and Arthur and Charlie back up on their feet before they die of poverty. He must save George's shop, prevent Bill from filing a divorce, and deal with Ginny and Ron's breakdowns. Dark. Percy/Audrey. COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1

**obviously, this whole fanfiction is post war, but ignores the DH epilogue. this first part of the fanfiction is mostly in Audrey's point of view but i don't think she'll be as a big factor in this fanfiction as much as the first chapters makes it seem. it's mostly family-based, which is what i prefer for these fanfictions. this fanfiction has all the usual trigger warnings, i.e. dark themes, suicidal ideation, self-harm, depression etc. i do not know if Percy ends up dying in this one or not either. character death is a possible ending here, but i am not sure.**

 **edit : i had to re-upload this chapter because all my italics disappeared. and i use a lot of them! **

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**Love and Old Black Shoes**

Chapter One

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Percy Weasley lived right across the hall from her.

A few times a month, Audrey Eloise Brown, an experienced barista slash awful business student slash disappointment of the family, noticed that he would walk to her door, demanding:

"Madam," his ears would go red at this point, and he never really looked her in the eye. As if she was a lawyer ready to attack him. "Can you please stop playing that _unsettling grunge music?_ I can hardly hear myself think!"

When Percy said this, he would be dressed in a polished button-down with a pair of trousers that looked smoother than a fitness model's bottom. He would often be wearing a gigantic blazer, a touch lighter than the rest of what he wore. He would stand tall with his head held high, despite being redder than a strawberry.

Audrey flushed too. "Oh, I'm sorry," she said with uncertainty. She felt like she was talking to her college professor. "Can you please specify more about this-this unsettling sound? I really don't want to be a bother."

Percy stared at her as if she should've been shipped off to the loony bin. "That sound. That... _grating_ noise." He gestured to her apartment. She suddenly felt less her five-foot-four height. It didn't help that this bloke could tower over her six-foot-tall father. "Do you not hear it? How could you not hear it?"

No, Audrey couldn't hear it because she didn't have any music on. "Sir, do you need to go to the hospital?"

"I certainly do not," Percy looked really offended by that. She didn't mean to offend him. "Please be mindful of others in the building, madam. I hardly think that others appreciate that-that- _that_ irritating, jarring music."

She watched him walk back to his room and she was left bewildered.

But the next day, he would come back with the same complaint. And the day after that. And so on...

Audrey assumed that the poor bloke probably had a case of tinnitus and hadn't been to the doctors yet, or maybe he was so overworked that he heard voices in his head. Like in a film she once saw.

She hoped he didn't go crazy one day and _kill everyone_ , just like in that film... it wouldn't be good for his job resume!

After a few months of the same behaviour, Audrey had an epiphany one day in the shower.

She had a theory as exactly what he was referring to as disturbing, ear-shattering music (she just couldn't believe it! She _must_ be wrong!). But then when he came by the following day after her conclusion, she tested her theory... you know, right after she shuffled a little in her feet and refused to look at him in the eye. It was that absurd of a theory.

"Mr Weasley..." At this point, her whole face flushed. "I think you're-you're talking about _my blender?_ "

Percy looked at her as if he had never the word 'blender' in his life.

"You know," Audrey tried to think of another word for her bloody Vitamix. "A mixer?"

He cocked his head to one side. "Are you referred to the carbonated drinks that you mix into an alcoholic beverage?"

"No, I mean a..." Audrey half-wanted to ask him if he ever had a drink, or if he just looked that up in a book about people who drink. That must be a lonely existence. "A machine that blends things together. Frozen fruit, milk, chocolate, ice-cream? Do you know what _ice-cream_ is?"

"Do not insult my intelligence," Percy huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. With his long cardigan slopping off his shoulders, she realised that underneath the big blazers and the thick, long cardigans, he was a right weedy fellow. Waving his stick-like arms around. Head bigger than the rest of him. Suddenly, Percy's incredibly intimidating exterior melted and now, he just looked like a thirteen-year-old nerd wearing his father's clothes. "I simply do not know anything about this contraption that you are referring to."

"Well, come on then. I'll show you," Audrey then gestured for him to come in. God, even his glasses were big, sliding off his face ever so often. And she used to be scared of him!

He was toying with his sleeve buttons. "Well, that's hardly appropriate."

She didn't understand what it was 'hardly appropriate.' "There's nobody inside, and it's not like I've had my knickers out in display," she probably shouldn't have said that because honestly, Audrey didn't know if she had her knickers out on display or not. "Come inside. Please."

Percy didn't seem like the kind of bloke that would deny a woman twice, and he wasn't.

He just walked behind her, holding his breath as if he was afraid to breathe in the air around him. Audrey wasn't the least bit surprised. He was so stiff and rigid that she bet he hadn't even bothered to bring anyone up to his flat. That was, if Percy had been on any dates. Not like she was one to talk. Audrey hadn't had a date with a bloke since she last split up with her high school boyfriend. That had to be right around five years ago.

"I know it's old and a bit rusty..." Audrey said, walking towards her kitchen. It was pretty big because she'd just cleaned it. "I didn't think the sound was _that_ bad, you know. I've never had any complaints about it before."

Percy stood by the doorway, as if he was instructed to do so. It seemed like in his mind, the only way to be 'appropriate' in a woman's flat was to be approximately one meter away from her at all costs.

"You can come inside," Audrey gestured for him to come in. Her dirty mind went somewhere else with that phrase, and she blushed. "I won't bite," she added on, but that sounded worse. God, anything could be sexual these days.

Percy shook his head. "I'm fine right here. Thank you," he squeaked out, like he was being chastised for sticking his hands into the biscuit tin right before dinner.

Her smoothie, frozen strawberries, cocoa mix, bananas and skimmed milk, was only half blended. She'd just turned it on when he'd come complaining of the ruckus.

As Percy silently stood there, Audrey turned the blender on, and it was then that she noticed his face twisting with realisation. If he could be anymore redder, he would've been. When her light honey-coloured eyes caught his cornflower blue eyes, he looked down like a schoolboy that had an awful report card (Audrey was sure to this bloke, a bad report card meant that he didn't get a proper grade in gym). Audrey honestly was flabbergasted at the fact that she was right for once. Percy genuinely thought that her old, distressed blender was a cacophonous sympathy.

By the time the smoothie blended and she poured them both a glass, she turned around and noticed he disappeared.

 _Maybe he doesn't like strawberries or maybe bananas. Maybe he's lactose intolerant. Maybe he doesn't like chocolate_ , Audrey thought to herself. _God, he must like chocolate._

Him walking out didn't bother her that much. She'd be humiliated too if she mistook a blender for Beethoven. What bothered Audrey was that she couldn't exactly remember hearing him walk out.

After that day, Audrey hadn't heard a single complaint from him about the noise ever again.

She made her smoothies and milkshakes to her heart's content, and she really liked to use her blender a lot. Her Monday morning coffee protein shakes usually turned to cake batter milkshakes by Friday evening.

For months even, she hadn't even caught sight of him.

Though oddly enough, some days, she found herself wondering what kind of shake would he have. He didn't look like the kind that used protein powder, and that wasn't because he had about as much muscle in his whole body as she did in one finger. She couldn't imagine him sat there with his orange smoothie, or his chocolate milkshake either. All she could bear to imagine him sneaking in was a black coffee. He looked like the kind of bloke that sat down, read the newspaper, and enjoyed half a grapefruit with a slice of low-calorie toast for breakfast. She wondered how tidy and neat his flat must be. And how put together his life was.

Audrey kept wondering until around May, where she caught glimpse of him for the first time in five months.

She had just left the flat, wearing her favourite sparkly purple cut-out dress and high heels. She was about to get trashed with her best friend, who was a bloke named Roger. He did not find it 'inappropriate' to walk into her flat, have a piss in her lavatory and drink smoothies with her. Audrey must've looked like a right tart to Percy, all dressed up in with glitter on her body and the slinkiest, tightest dress imaginable. She had very good, strong legs, an arse and boobs to die for, or so did Roger said. But according to him, any lass looked sexy to him after he got married.

Percy didn't look like this coming home from his job before. She wasn't sure exactly what he worked as, but it seemed to take a lot of his energy. His clothes were dirty too, like he'd been asked to lift old things that collected dust. He was mostly out before six o'clock on a normal day, and had just come home. It was ten in the evening now.

She watched him groggily pull out the keys to his room and then struggle to put the keys in. After watching him fumble with the doorknob for thirty seconds, she moved over to him to help him out.

Audrey took his keys and fiddled with his doorknob. She opened the door for him.

She gave him a soft smile and left to go to the new pub that Roger had been talking about.

At the pub, Audrey didn't get wasted, not really. The alcohol was genuinely awful. Everything tasted cheap. Audrey definitely realised by the first sip, she didn't really _want_ to get hammered. The after-drinking food was even worse because she normally tried to eat well, but Roger had been whispering to her about fatty, fried foods and Audrey just gave in. Audrey had gotten boring already. All she wanted to do was go home, sleep and wake up in the morning to finish that gigantic business project she'd had to do. Roger had called her out on her _boringness_ , but honestly, she wasn't the one that got married to a _witch_ at twenty-five years old now, was she?

Full off a Pizza Hut followed by a McDonald's ice-cream, Audrey came home feeling like she'd put on three stones.

When she walked upstairs with Roger, her heart sunk into her chest when she noticed that Percy was still outside the door. It was three-thirty in the morning and Percy was sat on the ground, head buried into his knees. He looked to be asleep. God, and his door was left ajar. She hoped nobody had stolen anything from his flat.

Audrey felt bad for trying to shake him awake. Percy opened his eyes and she saw him vaguely smile at her.

She was surprised. She didn't know he could smile. She grabbed his hands, and helped pull him up. Percy buried his face into her shoulder, and she stood there with her arms wrapped around his waist. She managed, with great difficulty, to walk him to his room where he had literally collapsed on his bed the minute she took him there. Audrey leaned down to take off his shoes for him. She believed, to him, this was _hardly appropriate_.

Roger was standing there, shuffling quietly. "Looks like your new bloke friend needed that drink more than you did."

Audrey rolled her eyes. Roger was so used to her having male friends that the way he said that didn't mean to be the least bit indicative that she had a crush on him, but she _actually_ might have a crush on this sad, tedious bloke that didn't know what a blender was. Audrey tried to take off his blazer at least, and he seemed appreciative of that, turning to the side and curling his feet into his stomach.

She pulled his duvet over his body, whilst Roger just stood there, snorting.

"To add on to the _boringness_ , you've decided to become someone's mum," Roger mumbled.

Audrey rolled her eyes and just gestured for them to walk out. His whole flat seemed oddly sterile. There was nothing personal _anywhere_. There was a briefcase and a neat pile of papers on the boring-looking coffee table. Then she noticed it sat on the kitchen counter. A unopened box of a new Vitamix that made hers look like a seriously underdeveloped, outdated model. Audrey shook her head. Did he even know how to use this?

When she walked back to her flat, she realised that she'd taken his keys. She could just pop back over now, but she didn't want to wake him up. That was what Audrey told herself anyway... it sounded reasonable even!

The following morning, Audrey walked to his flat and knocked on the door when she was supposed to be working on her project (she had done 200 words so far. Awful. She had to do at least 5,000 words for the bloody thing). Honestly, Audrey didn't know what to do. She couldn't exactly force him to take her in for a nice cup of coffee. She didn't know what possessed her to knock on his door at around five in the bloody morning, but she noticed that this was just about when he woke up. Audrey stood outside, her hands into the pockets of her knitted, carroty-orange cardigan.

When he didn't answer the door, she went back to work on her essay.

By nine am, she had 1,400 words done, but was back and forth to his door like clockwork. She knocked on the door every half-hour, waiting for him to open the door and when he didn't, Audrey slunk back into her room.

By ten am, Audrey knocked on his door again and Percy finally opened the door for her.

She was slightly surprised. Here she was, disarrayed hair, old cardigan, sweatpants with a baggy black t-shirt, and there he was, stood there after having have just taken a shower by the looks of his wet curls, in polished-looking black sweatpants, and a knitted grey sweater. Even in a jumper and sweatpants, this bloke managed to look professional.

"I've... I've taken your keys by accident," Audrey said, offering him his keys. "Yesterday."

Percy took them into his hands and nodded his head. "Alright."

Audrey stood by the doorway, swaying and waiting for him to say something else. It looked like the pleasantry of asking her to come in for a cup of coffee was completely lost on him. "Do you want to go down to a café and have a little bit of coffee with me?" She asked. "As... almost flatmates of course? Well, you pretend that our individual flats are just big rooms, we could be considered flatmates. So, we are almost flatmates... alright?"

Percy just raised an eyebrow at her, as if her hair was about to come alive. "Alright."

Audrey expected him to say that he wanted to dry his hair with a towel or something, but he'd just slipped into his plimsolls and walked outside, shutting the door. Audrey stared at Percy, trying to take this in somehow...

She was going to have a coffee with that stuck-up bastard and she wanted to have coffee with that stuck-up bastard.

They went down to a café together. It was hot and sunny outside. Way too hot for cardigans and jumpers.

Percy didn't seem to care at all. Audrey had kept on asking him if he was alright and if it was okay if she bought them one of those specialty coffee beverages (she _loved_ them). Percy just nodded his head at her but when the coffee came around, Percy didn't even bother having a sip of it. He just sat there, watching her drink hers. Audrey didn't know what to say to him, and she just quickly realised that this was a _bad_ idea. She had never had an exchange be so awkward. Whatever question she asked him ("how are you? How's work like? How's life been?", he replied with 'fine' in this cold, dismissive tone of voice. When she was done with her drink, he'd pushed his over to hers. Audrey didn't know how to say no, so she scarfed it down and now, she was stuffed full of sticky coffee, cocoa and squirty cream.

It didn't really sound like a nice time. And honestly, it was awful. It made any interest she had in him just disappear.

Having coffee with him was the worst part of her day. It made Audrey feel angry that she even bothered to wait for him like this. This was the worst day of her life, she'd decided. Having to be sat here and plumped like a pig whilst he answered every question of hers with ' _fine_ ', even the one with her asking what his full bloody name was.

Then she accidentally told him about the fact that recently, her father had a heart attack and had been in the hospital a few weeks back. Audrey hadn't told this to Roger, because he didn't like to be serious. Somehow, saying it made this hole get carved into her stomach. All she said was "Oh, my dad's actually had a heart attack a month ago. It's been very hard, with him recovering. Mum's been taking it out on me and I've been frightened" and then all these unhappy feelings started to bubble up in her chest. And they couldn't escape. Honestly, they had nowhere to go.

And Percy said nothing to this. He simply nodded, and then she promised herself, she'd bloody kill him if he said 'fine', but he didn't say anything. In fact, it was like she didn't say anything at all.

Audrey felt crushed. She was absolutely torn apart. She couldn't focus on her project. In fact, Audrey wanted to erase whatever she had already written so she didn't have to think about the fact that she wrote it on that day that she'd gone to the café with Percy. The day where she came home and vowed never to have a coffee with squirty cream, cocoa, flavoured syrup, biscuits or edible glitter _ever_ again.

For the next few days, Audrey didn't really talk to him. In fact, she wrote him a large letter talking about how displeased she was at how uncouth he had been.

The letter went something like: ' _Dear Percy Something, I am unhappy that you are my almost flatmate. My first impression of you was appalling. You told me to stop my music, which happened to be my blender... my Vitamix precisely. You should know, as you have the exact same brand, even if you did not use it yet. After a glorious night out, I was nice enough to lead you to your bed even though I could've just left you sat on your arse, asleep, with your door open and stolen all your important paper... things. Or your underpants. I could've stolen your underpants. I was nice enough to not only try and return your key the next morning, but I also invited you for coffee. During our nice little get together, I've come to conclude that I've seen corpses more animated than you. You weren't listening to a single word that I said, even when I've mentioned things I did not normally tell other people. So, yes, this is just a letter to remind you that you're an arsehole and to let you know that I shan't be bothering with you anymore. Love, Audrey.'_

In those few days that Audrey was ignoring him, Percy made no effort at all to talk to her! Like how horrible was that? Even after all that she'd said all that. As if whatever she'd said was unimportant. As if _she_ was unimportant.

The thing was Percy hadn't left his flat, not for work or anything. In fact, Audrey believed that he had gotten sacked.

 _Dreadful communical skills maybe?_ She thought to herself, and then sighed. Maybe his boss's father also had a heart attack and Percy didn't even bother saying that he was sorry for what she had to deal with! Sorry that her mum has turned into this bitch with a right stick up her arse. Her mother acted like Audrey was the reason why her father had a heart attack!

Then on a lousy Monday afternoon after she'd gone through three hour lectures, she came home to find a little small letter attached to her doorknob with a little light purple ribbon. Audrey unravelled the ribbon, walked inside, put the kettle on and sat on an old, creeky chair. She tore the paper, and then sat down to read every bit of that letter, word for word. It wasn't that many words really, but it was enough so that the terrible contempt and hatred she'd managed to fill herself up in the last few days felt so wrong. She felt guilty.

 _I'm sorry about my behaviour, Miss Brown. I am sorry about what happened to your father_ , he wrote to her. _My younger brother passed away the night before you've taken me for the coffee. I did not sleep well and was not very attentive in our conversation. I would like to take you to another coffee. If you would let me._

Audrey read that over and over again, and then she walked over to his door. He wouldn't be here normally at this time, but she supposed that he couldn't go to work because of his bereavement holiday, or perhaps, he'd just quit his job. Audrey knocked on the door, not expecting him to open it up for her.

It had been a few days since they'd last talked. Maybe four. Maybe five. He didn't open the door.

Then a few hours after the message, Audrey had decided that she was going to send him another one confirming the dates for their coffee. At least that had been the plan, before she got distracted by watching subpar sitcoms on the telly. Then it had been dinner time. And after that, she had a host of work to avoid. By the time she'd come to write the letter back, Audrey was too exhausted to tape it to his door. She went to bed and was asleep by twelve.

Then at three in the morning, there was a knock on the door rousing her from her sleep. Audrey walked over to open it, ready to tell off whoever was at the door until she saw it was Percy standing there, looking exhausted.

Audrey gestured for him to come into the flat without a single word.

She didn't know how this ended up with her sat on the ground at five in the morning, running her hand through a sleeping Percy's hair. Like he was her best friend in the whole wide world. But she didn't know anything about him. Except that he knew that her father had a heart attack and that her sweet mum had turned sour on her.

Audrey didn't know how long she stayed there, but all she knew was that even though she'd been dead tired only a few moments ago... Audrey couldn't sleep.

She didn't have to wait long for him to wake up. He woke up in an hour, and they stared there, staring at the wall. Audrey had never realised a wall could be so bloody interesting. Bad paint job and all.

"You know," Audrey decided to begin speaking, which was _always_ the worst idea she could come up with. "I reckon that if my, um, sister died out of the blue, I'd be... well, I'd be extremely guilty. I'm an awful sister. I've never let her take any of my things. I've never helped her with her homework like I should've. I've never even driven her down to get a bit of a coffee when she needs it. I've stolen all her fancy dresses, even though they don't fit me. She's fifteen and naturally skinny. I'm twenty-three and frumpy. What can you really expect? I think... I think the only way I could make this situation any right is if I'm a good daughter to my mum, who's going to be missing her way more than I do. Even if she's been awful to me lately because she needs the support so she doesn't go mad. Because well, honestly, my sister and I are not very close. Georgia is... confusing, and mum's spent her whole life dealing with her. I'd even go as far as to say that mum loves Georgia much more than she's ever loved me. Georgia was always prettier and smarter and more successful... so, mum would need me more than I need her or anyone else that is. If Georgia just suddenly kicked the bucket. And I think – I think... am _I_ helping?"

Audrey stood up from where she was, feeling bad because he'd been resting his head on her body.

"Do you want a smoothie? I can make you a smoothie. Or a protein shake? Do you want a protein shake?" Audrey then stared at him, looking at him slunk back on a heap at the floor. This all happened four or five days ago. She didn't know how well or how unwell he was taking care of himself. "Percy? What about a milkshake? Percy, have you eaten properly? Have you eaten at all in the last few days?"

Percy just stared at her, like he'd seen her for the first time.

"You are correct," he said, in a matter-of-fact voice. "My mother – _err_ , the rest of my family – would need me more than I would need them. I am the most hopeless brother in existence. I need to... remedy this situation."

Audrey's brain could've fallen out of her head in that second. _"What?"_ She was talking about a completely hypothetical situation. She had not expected Percy to come to that conclusion. "Err, Percy, I—"

"I'll go shower and dress appropriately," Percy said, getting up and standing tall. "Then I will see my family."

Audrey stared at Percy as if he was talking in a foreign language. "Percy, _breakfast_." She was sure he was insane. She was sure he hadn't eaten in the last five days, because he was walking funny, like someone that had no energy at all. She then turned back to her Vitamix. "Let me at least make you something if you're actually going to go through this ridiculous plan of yours! Don't leave me worried here. You haven't eaten in the past few days, have you? Not since – not since I've found you after my night out. Right?"

Percy just nodded his head. "I do not deserve your hospitality after I've—"

"You were _and_ are a complete and utter arsehole," Audrey confirmed. "But I'm not letting you go on to see your mum in God knows where without having something in your body after your five-day hunger strike!"

Percy's shoulders slumped. "I believe this means that I have no choice in the manner now. Do I?"

Audrey shook her head. "You most certainly do not have a choice in this manner. If you don't come back to my flat after you've dressed and tidied down and whatever else you have to do to fulfill your own personal vendetta, then I will be very, _very_ cross with you for a very long time."

"Fine," Percy's reply came. Audrey was bloody tired of hearing that word come out of his mouth.

She turned to her Vitamix, thinking about what she wanted to make him. By then, he was gone—back to his flat again. It would take Audrey a few days to realise that she didn't hear him walk out then either.

Audrey had decided that she was going to make him a smoothie. She looked through her cupboards, and used frozen mangoes, yoghurt, and a banana.

By the time that Percy came around to her flat (and Audrey was glad that she did else she'd bite his head of and feed it to her future offsprings), she just offered it to him. It was a mild orange colour. Percy looked somewhat hesitant to take it but with a few prompting (i.e. threatening) words, finally accepted it. Audrey stared at him for a while as he was stood there by her door, looking at her smoothie as if it was a foreign concept to him. He looked like he always did, like he had his whole life together. His maroon blazer, his white button-down, and black trousers. His hair pulled back into flatness. His body smelling of that non-offensive light cologne that he always seemed to wear.

Honestly, Audrey was excited about the shake. She'd used her favourite protein shaker.

"Keep it," she said, and she wondered if she was going to see him again soon, or if he was just going to go away. "The bottle I mean. You can keep the bottle after you're done with it."

Percy raised an eyebrow and said something that made her insides melt a little, and she wasn't even sure why because Audrey was convinced he was carved of ice and steel: "Miss Brown, that is hardly appropriate."


	2. Chapter 2

**there is going to be a lot of conflict in this fanfiction. a lot of anger and pain. there used to be more of a filler but i tried to remedy it a little bit because i just introduced Percy 'for real' since the first chapter was Audrey's perception. it used to be more filler-y until i added the Audrey and Percy bit in the beginning and the George bit in the end. it's gotten a little too lengthy for my taste (and then i added some more because that's very rational). there's no way of writing this chapter without writing a lot of what Percy feels because he's the main character (obviously). i've rewritten this twice because i didn't like the original one - actually, thrice including the changes today. so hopefully this goes down better. um, this is not a happy fanfiction obviously. this is nice, full-on angst in the best way possible. the characters are so angry. i can't even begin to control them. i don't even _know_ how i'm supposed to bring Bill back from the clutches of evil right now. last fanfiction, it was Arthur and this one, Bill's been corrupted. poor Bill. and Molly. and Arthur too because i love the 'Percy was not treated well' storylines in some Percy angst stories. i know that they are good parents, but i can't help it. i try to redeem them a little to be fair xxx **

**i wrote the next two chapters, they need a bit of formatting and editing (this one took three rewrites after all!), etc but i cannot wait to post them! the problem is has not been accepting of my other chapters i think because it is on OneDrive, so i will try and download my fanfiction off OneDrive and writing it using Microsoft Word only maybe it will help! but so far, they are a strict Percy POV and i think most of this fanfiction will be a Percy POV.**

 **i also want to have it go on record that English is not my first language.**

 **comment replies:**

 **malfoyravenclaw555 : it's the same for me! i have a love/hate relationship with post DH Percy stories, but since they're usually filled with angst... i really can't say no! **

**Phoenixx Rising : it's nice to see you here. ;) hopefully you'll like this fanfiction. though i must admit i've given myself the pass to go as crazy as i want so this should be interesting.**

 **Killthemalldaenerys : honestly, i don't know where this is going in particular... but i hope somewhere interesting as well! **

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**Love and Old Black Shoes**

Chapter Two

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After he left Audrey's, Percy went back to his flat, dawned her whole creamy, orange smoothie down and in about an hour, the fuzzy, grey dots in his vision started to go away and his heart stopped racing so much. His skin felt less clammy, and he didn't feel as if any moment, he was going to collapse into an unconscious heap on the floor.

Percy walked back to Audrey's flat after he washed her bottle for her. He knocked on her door, and prepared himself to say something that wasn't completely out of the mouth of an unsociable git.

When Audrey opened the door, she looked surprised to see him stood there with her clean bottle.

Audrey tentatively accepted it, and then stared at him for some time. It was very awkward, and Percy did not like to be stared at. He bit his tongue back, because he did not want to tell her something cold and terrible. Still, there wasn't anything interesting about his face—other than the fact that he looked gloomy enough to have his own weather forecast. Percy caught sight of himself in the mirror before he left. He was never going to win Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award, but this was just absurd.

"Um..." Audrey rubbed her arm, and then stared down at the floor. "Have a nice trip to-to-to... England."

"We are in England, Miss Brown," Percy chided, then flushed and offered a very awkward smile. He bet he looked like he wanted to murder her and dump her body in the river rather than friendly and welcoming. He cleared his throat and then said in a weak voice, "Devon. I live in Devon."

"Oh," she said, but she didn't look embarrassed. She liked staring at him a lot. It seemed that it prevented her from blushing as much, and Percy rubbed his neck, offering a semi-nice smile. "That's a long way from London."

"Is it?" Percy asked, raising an eyebrow before flushing. "I mean—yes... _it is!_ "

Audrey laughed at this point, and he was stood there, looking like a twat.

"Should we go now?" Percy suddenly asked, and Audrey looked confused. "The coffee that I've promised you?"

"Oh... yes... _YES!_ " Audrey walked to put on her orange cardigan. Percy didn't know why considering it was boiling outside, and Percy's bones had long liquidised down to broth. Thank Merlin for Mr Joseph's Long-Acting Anti-Perspirant. Saving him from having giant puddles of sweat under his arms... _tragic_. "Are you actually drinking coffee then this time? Oh, you can tell me more about your job. I've always wondered what you did. You look young! You aren't thirty, are you? Because if you are, you are very young looking for a thirty-year-old."

"I am most definitely not thirty!" Percy yelled back. "I'm twenty-two! I don't have a job anymore... I _resigned!_ "

Percy went red in the face. He had swallowed the lump in his throat. "I most definitely did not mean to yell."

Audrey didn't seem to mind the yelling. She looked shocked the minute he said that he was twenty-two, but she moved closer to him, like she suddenly wasn't scared to be seen around him. Percy was aghast. Did he really look _thirty?_ Merlin, he knew that stress aged a person, but he never thought that he looked thirty.

"I'm sorry," Audrey said. "It's just knowing that you probably have an office job makes me think you're old. _Had_ an office job."

"Thank you for reminding me, Miss Brown," Percy sarcastically said. He was not supposed to talk to women. He sounded like an arsehole. Well, he was an arsehole but he shouldn't be one towards a muggle woman. "Yes, I had an office job. An important office job that had gotten me into a lot of political drama, unlawful slaughter and uncomfortable underpants."

By then, Percy realised that not only had he walked straight past the coffee shop near the flat five minutes ago and hadn't even noticed, but he was also talking about his undergarments to a strange woman... a _muggle_ woman!

"Uncomfortable underpants you say," Audrey said, trying to sound as posh as possible. Perfect. She sounded exactly like Lucius Malfoy, except with a much larger set of knockers.

Percy smiled, and this time, it was genuine. He knew because when he genuinely smiled, he had to look down at his feet to keep the other person from noticing he could _actually smile_.

"Oh my God," Audrey moved towards him, standing in front of him. She seemed to have no problem with touching him because she pulled his face up to have a good look at him. "Is that a smile? Oh, _IT IS!_ "

Percy looked away from her. His smile had stretched into a full on beaming grin.

They walked and walked and after that, they were the farthest away from that coffee shop and no others seemed to be in sight. Which was just as well because this walk felt extremely magical. It made him feel warm and gooey inside and it wasn't just the scorching sun talking either.

By the time that they'd gotten to the normal muggle bus stop so that he could go to the train station to go to Devon (which he was _not_ taking! He was taking the bloody Knight Bus), Percy smiled over at her.

She wrapped her arms around him, and then stared at him again. But Percy allowed himself to be an Oliver Cartwright portrait for the moment no matter how uncomfortable it was for him. Did he have a spot on his face? He would never know. And it wasn't like Percy could tell the difference between his spots and freckles anymore.

Audrey moved very close to him. It was confusing. Maybe she wanted him to see something, like her big bulging eyes staring at him in a freakish manner and boring into his soul. She looked like she was about to devour him. Maybe she was a muggle crystal ball reader like he'd heard of before from muggleborn Penelope Clearwater. Maybe she could see his future and could see him slouched on the couch, with a giant gaping hole in his head where his brain used to be.

Percy offered an uneasy smile. "I suppose that you are not angry at me for my foolishness anymore?"

"No," Audrey shook her head. "You're forgiven." She ran her hand through his hair, which was very odd.

It also made him feel like a Kneazle. Did muggle women always run their hands through their muggle male friends' hairs in an extremely stalkerish manner? Percy would never know. But he bared it this time around because he was a complete arse to her last time. And she was nice. Save for the staring and unsolicited touching.

His own mother didn't touch him as much as a wee toddler. Honestly, Audrey. She should behave herself. A lot of blokes would get the wrong message. _Sexual_ messages.

Percy nodded his head. "Alright. I'll... I'll have to go now." Despite Audrey being very touchy and a stare-r (was this a word?), he did actually have a nice time with her. He hadn't felt good in days.

Since the battle, he'd spent every day attempting not to kill himself at night. Well, in all honesty, he would've killed himself the night he came back to his flat but apparently, fighting a battle to the death drained one out. He was knocked out well into ten in the morning. And he would've killed himself the second he woke up, but he couldn't think of a death violent enough to atone for all his sins. He decided that refusing to sleep or eat until he figured out how he wanted to kill himself was a pretty wonderful plan. If all else failed, he would die from the lack of sleep and starvation, which was highly unpleasant. Just as he wanted it at the very least. Or that was his plan until Audrey reminded him that he hadn't atoned for his biggest sin yet: he was a gigantic git to his family and needed to make sure that he helped them cope with Fred's death. It was the least they could do considering he was the reason Fred was dead.

It was late in the afternoon by the time that Percy left for Devon via the Knight Bus.

He managed to offer the bus conductor the little wizarding money he had—and thank Merlin's socks he had enough because most of his money was in pounds. He'd been living in muggle London for ages now, and he honestly thought that living with them would be easy. He got an O in muggle studies after all but...

 _A musical blender_. Really. And Percy bought his own recently, but didn't have the daftest clue how to put it together. The instructions manual might as well have been written in bloody Elvish!

What a twat he was! He woke up _a muggle woman_ at three in the morning. How obscenely horrible!

He might as well have gone down to the store with Audrey so he could buy a pair of nappies. Merlin knew he could use a change of the ones he was wearing now. He was certainly not allowed to drag his twenty-something-year-old coffee lover slash smoothie enthusiast slash never-stopped-talking almost-flatmate of his into his bundle of ever-multiplying neuroses. At least poor dead Fred was having a good laugh at him. Being stared at by a muggle woman that he had wronged and then insisted on waking up at an unholy hour of the night to lie close to because he couldn't sleep on his bed. It was too wet after he cried his eyes out, and nearly massacred his throat with wretched sobs.

Wonderful. Spectacular. Completely and utterly sensational.

Sat in the Knight Bus, Percy curled up and pressed his head against the window. He was going to see his family. What joy. They'd love to see him now that he'd killed Fred. When he thought of it, he felt this crushing pain form in his chest. He buried his head into his lap, trying to ignore the two blokes behind animatedly about Quidditch of all bloody things. They'd just ended the biggest war in ages, and the sports column still generated more interest than the end of worldly destruction and dismay. Where was Fred's column in _The Daily Prophet_ about how _happy_ he was before Percy's jealousy had gotten the best of him and he watched his brother got slaughtered in cold blood?

He sighed. Percy wasn't always selfish. He used to be _so nice_.

When he was eight, Percy used to wash off the dirt and mud off Fred and George before their mum caught them and took away their pudding privileges. At ten, Percy once even took them to use Bill's broom because he wanted someone to be with them when they used it. He'd overheard them saying that they were going to do it. Stopping them never came to mind, but supervising them definitely did. At eleven, just before Percy went off to Hogwarts, he told Fred and George where he kept his spare money so that they could buy anything they wanted. At thirteen, Percy turned a blind eye to their plans on making 'sweets that make you sick' because he thought that he'd confiscated enough of their plans for the year. He'd pretend he just didn't see that one. After all, he did have a visual impairment! At fifteen, Percy didn't accept them making fun of his _Pinhead_ Prefect status, but he did get them out of more detentions than they could ever dream of. At seventeen, he prevented Katie Bell from socking Fred in the face after he made a comment about the size of her arse. She socked Percy instead... all _five-feet_ of her managed to sock him! The six-foot-two bloke! Fred and George seemed to find that bloody hilarious.

Then Percy disowned his own family and Fred and George dropped out of school _and they didn't tell him_. He could even remember the pain that he felt when he had to find it out from the bloody lady working at Ministry Munchies.

 _Those two brothers of yours really like to get into a lot of trouble_ , she said, and then laughed. Percy was distraught. He couldn't even look at the pumpkin pasty that he'd bought for himself. _Do you think you can get me an autograph?_

The truth was Percy very well knew that the twins made more money in a day than Percy probably did in a month. Those two ran a joke shop and garnered more respect from everyone that he knew than Percy ever had in his whole entire life. Percy, as usual, jealous as he sat there in his boring living room staring at his boring papers that didn't make any sense anymore. He sat through all his exams and cried himself to sleep, unable to get out of bed as he wrote to Penelope about his fears. His proudest moment—his 12 O.W.L's and later on, his 12 N.E.W.T's—all of it meant nothing. Those two didn't even _have_ any O.W.L's!

His calculations for succeeding at life were off by miles.

It wasn't about the money. Even if he didn't make as much money, he didn't spend a knut out of necessity. In fact, even with his poorly income, Percy had this sudden influx of money and it was just rotting in his Gringott's bank account because Percy had always given whatever money he had to someone else. Fifteen-year-old Percy offering it to Ron on his first day in Hogwarts. Sixteen-year-old Percy sneakily giving some to Ginny when she said she'd wanted to buy herself Quidditch supplies. Seventeen-year-old Percy giving big flowers and late-night dinners for Penelope. And now, he couldn't give it to anyone because he had disowned his bloody family— _and he killed Fred he killed Fred he killed his baby brother oh Merlin what kind of monster was he how dare he hurt Fred how dare_.

Percy spent his whole life planning everything. He calculated every movement with precision. He could see himself somewhere amazing in ten years' time. Now, he could barely see himself past _ten minutes_ of his life.

At the Burrow, Percy managed to weed through the army of gnomes to get to the front door. He knocked but nobody answered. He tried to jimmy the door open and was alarmed when he realised that _the door wasn't locked_.

Forget additional protective charms—the door was bloody open! _They hadn't even bothered with the bloody key!_

When he got inside the house, the first thing that Percy did was lock the door. After that, he had a look at the living room and the colour drained right out of his face. He made a very unattractive squeaky sound because his childhood home looked more like a storage unit of All Things Defective and Ghastly. The Burrow was _never_ really spotless, but Percy was now knee-deep in rubbish. Percy held his breath because he did not think it was wise to breathe in the surrounding air particles in case they had been sullied like the rest of the house.

The carpet was nowhere to be seen! And to get through to the stairs, Percy had to sail through a valley of tortured tea pots and tormented trophies. He would have to apparate inside his own house to get to his room because of the rubbish.

 _"ZIS IS NOT FAIR!"_ Fleur's voice sounded out, as she appeared out of seemingly nowhere. She looked haggard, and worn down. _"YOU ARE NOT LIKE ZE MAN ZAT I 'AVE MARRIED! I WILL NOT STAND FOR ZIS!"_

"Well, then don't _stand_ for it, my love!" Bill mocked in an acerbic tone of voice that sent shivers down Percy's spine.

 _"DO NOT MOCK ME!"_ Fleur shouted back at him, hot tears flowing freely down her face. _"EVER SINCE ZE ATTACK, YOU 'AVE BECOME A MONSTER! I WILL NOT STAND FOR ZIS... NEVER!"_

They seemed completely unaffected by the Mess. Percy knew that Bill's face was slashed horrifically, but he never knew that Bill was also _blind_. Hell, even a blind bloke could tell they were living in trash considering it would take them at least ten minutes to get from Point to Point B. That was, without getting engulfed in goo, broken toys, and old photo albums that smelled of fags and Kneazle piss.

Fleur disapparated then, so it was just Bill and Percy. And it seemed to Percy that Bill looked like he wanted to tear off anyone's face but _especially_ Percy's. And honestly? Percy would rather it be him than Bill's wife.

The way he talked to her was unforgivable! And here he was, frantically annoyed at himself for what he'd said to and done to Audrey... it paled in comparison to how he talked to his wife (not that Percy was excusing his horrendous actions. He was no saint either). Bill made her _CRY_. His own wife!

 _"I SUPPOSE YOU'RE HERE TO GIVE ME MARRIAGE ADVICE?!"_ Bill spat out, and Percy stiffened. _"TO THE WEDDING THAT YOU DIDN'T ATTEND BECAUSE YOUR HEAD IS STUCK UP YOUR OWN ARSE!"_

Percy was flabbergasted. He had never seen Bill like this. He didn't think it was even possible.

Percy didn't say anything about him, or Fleur, for the sake of his teeth. "Why is the door unlocked?" Percy asked, raising an eyebrow over at Bill. "I know that the war just ended but this is ridiculous."

Bill snorted, as if it was an unimportant thing to say. Percy said a lot of unimportant things, but his fears about the door were not unsound. Of course, he was hypocritical. Falling asleep outside his door from exhaustion, door cracked wide open. Audrey could've stolen his underpants—the comfortable ones that was.

"Why am I buried in this catastrophe?" Percy was eerily calm. "Why is this house left in chaos and disarray?"

"A _few_ things had changed, dear Percival," Bill replied in an icy tone, and Percy didn't even say anything wrong. He didn't call Bill out on being a bastard to his wife. Or a bastard in general. This could've gotten a lot worse considering. "Didn't you notice? Busy frolicking about in the fields for a week, kissing up someone else's arse?"

Percy stared at Bill with a cold, fixed expression. "I did notice a few changes, yes. Besides our house entering an annual swamp contest, it seems that you've become an even bigger git than I am." He cocked his head to one side, and allowed himself to have his smug face on for a second. "I _dare_ you to talk to Fleur like that in front of her father."

Bill snorted again. Really. A pig didn't snort half a much—

Percy was caught off guard when Bill pushed him into the pile of old, broken elastic bands, empty water bottles, and half-eaten boxes of _Pixie Puffs_ and _Cheeri-Owls_.

Percy sat up, aching already. He forgot how nice it was to live in the Burrow.

"I doubt it'll be as bad as you talking to mum or dad after all the rubbish you pulled. Including a one-week holiday off to Merlin knew where after Fred just _died_." There was a flash of pain in Bill's eyes that made even Percy feel sorry for him. Percy felt a crushing pain envelope him. _Guilt_. "This 'catastrophe' that you're buried in? It's because George had a colossal breakdown and kept on throwing defective joke shop products all around the house for _DAYS_ after the war."

Percy didn't want to imagine how George must be like right now.

"You think this is bad? Just wait until you see the kitchen. Or mum and dad's room. Even the bloody shed isn't safe. And you think I have an attitude problem? Wait until you see _George_. Or Merlin forbid – _Ginny or Ron_ ," the room seemed to drop down a few degrees every time Bill said something. Percy couldn't stop shivering. "Get a look at those two and you'll actually start believing that _HELIOPATHS EXIST!_ And mum? She's completely closed herself in. All she does is eat pasties, sleep and cry. Dad's not been to work and neither has Charlie. They're too busy feeling sorry for themselves and using psychoactive substances to numb themselves out. I've never seen so much potion abuse in my life—so, why don't you go tell them off for how illegal and unlawful it is and _LEAVE ME ALONE!_ "

Percy could barely digest any of that. Bill might as well have been spitting out nonsense about a dream he had last night involving peanut butter Kneazles and singing clouds. He looked down at his feet. He felt his heart break into a million little pieces as his head got around to the words. A lump formed into his throat.

"You're awfully quiet for a git that never shuts up," Bill suddenly said. "You're really got nothing to say?"

Percy had never felt such crippling guilt in his whole life. "No."

Bill looked satisfied with that answer. "Honestly? Get out as quick as possible. You don't belong here anymore."

"No," Percy said, his voice wobbly. "I can't let anyone live in this filth. I have to disinfect this ostentatious calamity."

"Of course," Bill rolled his eyes. " _This filth_. The biggest problem that we have is _this filth_. Well, get around to _disinfecting_ the _ostentatious calamity_ before the sock monster downstairs finally eats our toes off and kills us in our sleep. Come on, Percy. Be a hero. Conquer _this filth_."

Percy watched Bill walk away. He'd never seen him like that in his life.

Percy spent the whole of the afternoon and evening cleaning everything from top to bottom. Or rather, _disinfecting_ being the appropriate word for it—and he did mean disinfect. He'd been wiping the whole house with strong disinfectants. He cleaned off slimy, purple goo that had erupted all over the sofa using only the most hardcore cleaning tools. He had taken the wallpaper off, scrubbed the walls, and made a mental note to go to Diagon Alley to buy a new plain wallpaper that he knew his mum would like. He took out the various bits of gum stuck to an old love-seat. Six-year-old Ginny was to fault for that one. He'd wiped the loveseat clean until it went from a maroon to the lovely light pink shade that it had been when they'd first bought it. He'd wiped the coffee table until he saw his own reflection looking back at him from how glossy it was. Anything that was broken, defective or crushed was disposed of. He'd put everything that wasn't broken or defective into boxes that he'd labelled and shrunk. Percy gave them a little bit of colour using a few innocuous charms, and then stacked them one over another on an empty shelf. He'd scrubbed the carpet until the ten-year-old chocolate stains came out.

He made sure The Couch of all Disorder and Destruction (that used to be a sunny yellow colour but was now brown) was back to its cheery colour even if his fingers broke in the process. Percy got up to the ceiling and cleaned it until it gleamed and he could smell the sweet, lavender scent of the cleaning lotions and potions he always lugged around with him because he was neurotic about having a clean space to live in. He turned to clean the vases until they were sparkling and gleaming. He rearranged the various knickknacks after he made sure to get rid of what felt like a century's worth of dust in there. Honestly! There was less dust in some people's attics.

By seven in the evening, Percy finally collapsed on the couch, and curled his legs up.

This was only _one room_ in the Burrow and he was already knackered. He didn't even start to look at the demolition that was the stairs, or peered into the kitchen. He knew it was a nightmare because even sat here, he could smell some gone-off curry and mouldy bread. It was never a good sign to smell foul odours from a different bloody room altogether.

Percy got up after what felt like a three second break (but more like fifteen minutes), and then went about polishing the Weasley family clock. He dared not look directly at it. He did not need to have a dire wobble when the house was about to collapse on itself because of negligence.

 _And it had only been a week!_

By nine, Percy had gotten started on the stairs. By midnight, he was at the top of the stairs and ready to pass out from sheer exhaustion. By two in the morning, he decided to go to the kitchen—and then ran outside, past the gnome sanctuary that they managed to have now, and then vomit into the bushes.

Because apparently, that was a sign of dignity now. Vomiting in healthy, vibrant leaves.

He cleaned the leaves up with a few spells. He walked back into the kitchen, and then used various destructive charms to kill off the giant insects. And by giant insects, he meant insects the size of tissue boxes and encyclopaedias. They were eating the tables, and through the cupboards. They'd dirtied the sink, and Percy had never been afraid of spiders, or Acromantulas but this was enough to strike the fear in him.

By five in the morning, there wasn't a single insect in the kitchen, not even an ant. After blasting them, he realised that there was a gaping hole in the wall with more bugs—and worse! _Cornish pixies_ and _flobberworms_ breeding between the walls! And then called an exterminator at around seven and a half.

He could not do anything that day in the house until the exterminators were done. They could work around with people in the house, silently even, but Percy did not think he could muster up the courage to go and clean anymore of the house knowing those little vermins had infested his childhood home.

Instead, Percy spent the whole day de-gnoming the garden on his own. Wonderful task in the boiling weather all alone with nobody to help you in the slightest way possible. Percy could've passed out from exhaustion.

The fact that he hadn't had slept in ages, or had anything since Audrey's mango, banana and yoghurt smoothie might also be a factor in the fact that he almost ended up unconscious.

His remedy for nearly passing out was to drink water. It didn't seem to help much but he hadn't passed out yet.

He popped down to Gringott's and took out his money. He went to buy a new wallpaper for his living room and new ones for the kitchen and the hallways. They were his mum's favourite colours. Dark, plain colours. Navy blues, forest greens, golden yellows, violet purples and chocolate browns—and whilst the exterminators went about their business, Percy covered the living room with a new navy blue wallpaper to replace the distressed one that they'd previously had.

The following day, Percy had spent most of his money because exterminators were expensive. Percy didn't regret it. He'd repaired the hole in the kitchen with a few extra charms and tools from the (overflown) shed (Percy had to have _that_ cleaned as well—and why was his father asleep at one in the afternoon in that blasted shed on the ground with Charlie? It smelled like strong liquor and half-off dreamless sleep potions.)

Percy made sure the kitchen was sterile as possible. He'd thrown out all the mouldy breads, the gone off curries, the takeaway pizza boxes, the abundances of ice-creams with freezer burns, and his mother's obviously cloudy looking health shakes. _Takeaways!_ His family _never_ ate takeaways when they were in the house all together!

With the living room and kitchen cleaned, Percy ventured to the bigger part of the house— _upstairs_.

The minute he'd walked upstairs, he leaned against the wall and placed a hand on his chest. His heart was beating very quickly. Percy, who was used to overworking himself, had never done this much work in such a short amount of time before. His head was spinning. He sunk to his arse, and buried his head into his lap.

All better now, right? Get up, Percy tried to tell himself. So he did get up. Awful mistake. He walked down a little down the hallway, his thighs shaking and barely made it to his room.

His room was clean. A quick peer into everyone else's room—very quietly, and he noticed everyone was asleep but the rooms were clean and nothing had changed except that they'd managed to hoard enough food in their rooms to survive the apocalypse. Percy disappeared back into his room and slept moderately. You know, _only_ twenty-four hours of pure sleep. When Percy woke up, his heart was beating quickly and his skin was clammy. He remedied this by opening his door and scarfing down a big packet of nuts, dark chocolate and raisins with water. He went back to sleep and when he woke up, he no longer saw stars. That was an eventful _forty-eight_ hours now, wasn't it?

Percy took a shower. He wore his old clothes. The striped button-down that he was wearing used to be form-fitting. Now, it was unusually baggy. Percy's old, grey trousers used to be tight, like he was about to pop out of them, but now he had to spello-tape them to his hips because he couldn't find a blasted belt.

The first room he visited since doing nothing but sleep for forty-eight hours was George's.

He braced for a real horror show, but instead, was faced with the most pitiful image he'd ever thought to come across. George was sat on his bed, with a Quaffle sat between his legs, and his head buried into the blasted thing. His eyes were bloodshot, like he hadn't had enough sleep and he immediately seemed to wake up when he saw Percy. A look of absolute rage fille George's eyes, and the Quaffle was thrown towards him. Percy found himself flat on the ground. There were those blasted sparkly stars forming in front of his eyes. His glasses on the ground, fortunately not shattered to bits. Ugly they were, but sturdier than most brooms. Percy turned to sit up but was pushed down by a George that looked like he was out for blood.

Percy opened his mouth to speak, but was surprised when George violently slammed his fist into his face.

 _"YOU WERE THERE! WHY DIDN'T YOU SAVE HIM? YOU WERE RIGHT NEXT TO HIM! YOU WERE CLOSER! YOU WERE CLOSER!"_ George called out, and honestly, even when punching the mickey out of him, he looked like a ghost. Like someone that wasn't really there. _"YOU COULD'VE SAVED HIM BUT YOU WANTED HIM TO DIE! DIDN'T YOU? YOU WANTED HIM TO DIE!"_

George collapsed, tears running down his face. He sobbed. He looked like a shell of a shell of a shell of himself.

Percy opened his mouth to speak but he didn't know what to say. What could he say? He tore George into pieces. He killed Fred. He broke his family, his childhood home. He could clean it all he wanted to, but it was still rotting on the inside.

"Why couldn't you have killed me instead? Why couldn't you have killed _ME?_ " George said.

Hearing George say that was more gut-wrenching than anything else Percy had ever had to hear in his life. To hear his baby brother ask Percy why he couldn't have killed him instead? There was nothing even Percy could say to that.

 _"OH MERLIN! WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIS FACE? ARE YOU SERIOUSLY BLAMING HIM?"_ Ginny's voice sounded out behind Percy. "We were _ALL_ there, George! We _KNOW_ what happened. And unless Percy was a seer, he couldn't have known either!"

"You're with him," George decided, shaking his head in disbelief. " _YOU_ wanted Fred dead too! I know it now!"

"Nobody wanted Fred dead!" Ginny said, and her voice was cracking the minute he said Fred's name. "George, look at yourself. You aren't _like_ this. You're worse than Bill! And Bill's a complete and utter—"

When Percy saw George lunge towards Ginny, he stood in the middle of them. Percy got knocked down the minute that George attacked him—which apparently surprised his little brother, because George tripped. Percy watched, numb, as George was sent sailing down the stairs. Bill was just walking up there, holding a gigantic shopping bag. Bill dropped his things, breaking glass, as he tried to catch George as he tumbled down but missed. Bill's angry face melted into a look of sheer horror as he looked down to see George on the bottom of the stairs, bleeding profusely.

Bill stared at Percy with a murderous rage like never before.

"Ginny, take George to the hospital," and Percy knew that the minute that Ginny was out of the picture, he'd end up with a more debilitating injury than a bleeding nose and a sore tooth.

Ginny wrapped her arms around Percy, tightly, and shook her head. "No," she tightened her arms around him even more, and Percy responded by stiffening. "You'll _kill_ him, Bill. I won't go—I won't go."

" _GINNY_ , take _GEORGE_ to the _HOSPITAL!_ " Bill repeated.

Ginny sobbed into Percy's arm, and he rubbed her back, edging her forward. She finally disappeared downstairs to wrap her arms around George. Percy had just noticed how small he looked like, wrapped around that giant purple t-shirt, and those gaudy sweatpants. Percy didn't notice that he was walking backwards until then.

Percy caught the image of Ginny disapparating with George in her little arms. They weren't all _that_ little. Ginny could carry Percy any day for Merlin's sake, but it was just how they _looked_ like right then. Small, broken and innocent.

He sunk back against the wall. Percy closed his eyes because he was scared about what Bill might do to him.

Percy was surprised when a few moments passed by and nothing seemed to happen. He let himself relax and opened his eyes. That was when Bill decided to make his move. He grabbed Percy and thrashed him over and over against the wall until he felt something wet at the back of his head.

Percy was starting to feel delirious. And not very well.

By the time Bill went away, Percy managed to bandage himself up, and then clean the soiled walls. It was the most depressing thing that he'd ever done. Clean his own blood off the walls.

That evening, Percy didn't think he could stay in the house. He didn't have it in him to the hospital to talk at George and get his arm or his pelvis broken. He didn't want to know what version of the tale that Bill or George was going around telling everyone. He felt bad, because he didn't want to leave Ginny alone in the house either.

Percy left the house for the first time in ages, and it felt good to be outside. His cheekbone hurt, his tooth was sore, but at least his nose and head stopped bleeding.

He wasn't sure what time it was but he walked down and sat by a bench. He watched people walk around—sunny-haired women, tired men with old wizarding robes still caked with blood, small children running around and laughing, sad women with sunken cheeks, happy teenage boys laughing and having a good night out as they talked about girls. Some people were very happy, and some of them were very sad. Percy watched shops close and workers walk say their goodbyes so they could go home to their loved ones. Percy just sat there with his wrecked body, inhaled the smell of buttery popcorn and large salted pretzels, all of them with outrageous names linked to Harry. Percy thought it was a little bit funny. A Potter Pretzels and Popcorn. Pretzels shaped like lightning bolts, and popcorn drizzled with copious amounts of caramel syrup made to gleam in the darkness.

They had Potter Pretzels and Popcorn after the first war too. The smell left him in deep melancholy.

Percy remembered being six-years-old and taken out to Diagon Alley for what felt like the first time ever in his life after his first birthday not in locked in a dark and dreary place. His mother was too busy fussing over Ron, Ginny, Fred and George to pay even the smallest attention to him. He did not wander off and stuck very close to his mother, but Percy could remember the guilt he felt for just wanting to hold onto her dress robes and bury his head into them because he had never seen _so many people_ in one place before.

Six-year-old Percy trusted that his mother would not take him anywhere scary, so he just stayed close to her. He had never been in shops before, and did not know how they worked. He had taken a lollipop at a store, and then ran out when he heard his mother calling for him. He unwrapped the lolly with zeal, noticing its bright green colour.

When she saw it, his mother shouted at him for it. Percy could still remember her yelling at him, stressed with taking care of four little babies that only gave her trouble. She had to lash out on the only one that was there, that could understand what she said. _"DO YOU REMEMBER TELLING YOU THAT YOU COULD TAKE THAT, PERCIVAL? DID I GIVE YOU ANY PERMISSION TO HAVE ANYTHING? DID I? I DIDN'T PAY FOR THAT! YOU ARE NOT HAVING A PUDDING THIS WEEK—I WON'T LET YOU HAVE A SINGLE BISCUIT FOR AS LONG AS I LIVE!"_

Percy had to throw it away, but before then, he'd had a few licks. His eyes watered. It was an acid pop, and when he complained of his tongue hurting, she only yelled back a _"GOOD!"_ at him.

When he came back home, his mother's sweet, docile tones greeted when she noticed he'd burned a hole in his tongue after Percy refused to eat any of his dinner. He didn't understand then, and he didn't understand now, how even when he did the smallest, most insignificant thing wrong, he always got shouted at. When he was thirteen, his father had a go at him just because Percy had eaten a pot of yoghurt in the fridge because it had been a bad day so it was justifiable to wreck Percy's bloody day for no reason. He had been so happy that day. He could remember because the minute that Arthur started shouting at him, Percy wanted to go upstairs and cry. These small things were insignificant, but he hated himself most of his life. He hated himself because of his perfectionism (where did that come from? Percy never knew. Being never praised until he killed himself studying and getting good grades had _something_ to do with it. And the only person that ever praised him was his mother!). He was never good enough. Every small little thing that happened in his life made him the way he was—like Bill not giving him a single quill when Percy asked for it (he didn't use them!) but giving his old, beloved broomstick to George when he asked for it—it used to get on his nerves. Percy wasn't _allowed_ to make mistakes, or to want things. Or to expect to be given things.

It killed him on the inside, knowing that they were treating him like they didn't want him there. Percy was simply someone else's sheer obligation—a fool, a pawn, someone to _blame_.

And Percy blamed himself. He blamed himself for being so stupid. He blamed himself for Fred.

Most days, Percy wanted to write a whole book about how every small insignificant detail had led him to crying for days over a less-than-perfect grade and about how he wished that someone didn't notice that he hadn't had any pudding three days in a row because Ron always took his. He wanted to write about how he'd come to loathe himself so much. How he only gloated about his accomplishments because he wanted someone to notice them. How he had wanted to kill himself because of them. How violent and how gruesome he wanted to make his suicide. How he wanted to bury face until acid until it melted away all his sins. How he wanted to stick that broom up in his arm so far into his mouth he choked and died on it. How he wanted to _literally_ work himself to death.

Percy could write the things he wanted to do to himself, but he'd run out of quills and he couldn't afford them.

And he couldn't ask Bill for one because he'd rather kill himself than give Percy a quill. But he'd give George a big old broom no problem. He'd give Ginny his favourite dragonhide jackets. Percy could imagine all the people from Hogwarts, talking about how brave Ron was. How they'd wished it was Percy instead of Fred, _that bastard_...

The only reason that Percy could come up with for why he shouldn't kill himself in a year's time when his family got better was because he didn't want Hermes suffering. What if nobody knew what his favourite owl snacks were?

He was broken out of his trance when a crup approached him. Percy gave it a few pats on the head, and received a few appreciative licks. He did not know why but animals particularly liked him. Maybe because he was an animal himself.

Percy was never really one for shopping, but he couldn't resist to look inside the stores after he was done lamenting (was he ever really done?). Most of the things he saw hadn't really change. Except when Percy looked too closely and he realised that Fortescue's was no longer run by Florean, the smell of death was in the air, and there was a thickness in the atmosphere that made everything feel fake. Like it wasn't supposed to be like this.

He spent the whole evening in the Knight Bus again, with the little money that he had left over to go back to his flat. He wished that Audrey lived nearer, because he wanted to see someone today.

Percy walked up to her flat, and then knocked on her door.

A bloke answered. He had a scruffy look to him, and didn't look to be very pleased at seeing Percy there, stood there in his clothes. He probably reeked.

"Audrey doesn't want to bloody see you. Don't come back again," he said, and then slammed the door in Percy's face.

Percy didn't understand what he'd done wrong, but it seemed to be a common theme today—or really, for the majority of his life in all honesty. He walked inside his flat, and stared inside the plain walls. In his plain room. In his plain existence with the little plain things adorning it. He picked up a book and started to write out his will.

Unfortunately, Percy realised that in all honesty, he… had _nothing_.


	3. Chapter 3

**everything was perfect about this chapter - then i passed the Penelope and Percy reunion and went on to the will and it was ugh. i tried to re-write the will scene a few times but it didn't work out. i just re-arranged the wording so that i wouldn't think it was that God awful as i think it is... though i think i'm extremely biased.**

 **next chapter i think Charlie is _finally_ involved. i know members of the family are slowly being introduced (Arthur and Molly here - which are not in the best condition), George and Ginny again... but i only mention it because Charlie is definitely on Percy's side so it doesn't seem like the whole family loathes him. that almost redeems Charlie in the last fanfiction, right where Bill Charlie? this time it's definitely the opposite. because he's a totally baby here. i had trouble writing his sentences when i was writing the new chapter because i could almost feel how much in pain he was. **

**ugh, there will be lots of swearing. i think i lost it when i made Arthur swear. and George. _oh_ , George.**

 **i just wish i can write a chapter that is in a POV other than Percy, but honestly, this is all about him fixing everything for everyone else so it's hard to even imagine writing a full 6-7 pages (of size 9 font) in someone else's POV. the plot actually won't permit me! i spent 3 days trying to write a George POV. the first 2 pages were great and then... nothing.**

 **comment replies:**

 **Phoenixx Rising:** **i couldn't make Ginny against him too! i would have no idea of attempting to remedy the situation afterwards if** **literally** **everyone hates him. that and Ginny is too nice...i can't imagine her hating on him for real even if she did throw mashed parsnip on his face that Christmas! Bill is very, um... well, i'll try to fix it eventually but you know how that goes. Arthur is always a victim of it. like even in this chapter, i tried to rewrite it so he doesn't come off so awful but well, um, if it helps, everyone but Ginny seems to be awful right now. the only thing really is to see how they get through with it. also, i'm glad you like the dark theme cause you will be seeing much more of it!** **  
**

 **TheOneKrafter : "a feels ride" - that's the idea! ;) **

**Myra109 : when you start a review with that sentence, there's no way i won't be flattered. i'm typically a once a week update-r person. it takes me a day to write a single chapter, but the editing... when you write one chapter but have a habit of re-writing it, well. this chapter itself has been re-written so many times i still cringe at the thought of the original version! **

**finkles89 : "I feel literally crushed right i now, i want to hug him" aye, that's the response i wanted to evoke. i shamelessly love torturing Percy like this. unfortunately, the trick for me is trying to keep everyone else IC when i do this. **

**K.J. Bollinger : thank you, beautiful. :) **

* * *

**Love and Old Black Shoes**

Chapter Three

* * *

Percy woke up at noon in the morning the following day. He spent the morning in bed, reading his favourite childhood books whilst drinking coffee. It was very nice. At around two in the afternoon, he found a box of posh dark chocolates hid in the back of the fridge, behind a carton of soy yoghurt and a little punnet of rotten blueberries. He tossed the blueberries away, took three little chocolates, melted them down a little with his wand and stirred it in his half-eaten carton of soy yoghurt. He sat beside the window, and stared outside where the sun touched his pale, freckly arms. He was in his pyjama bottoms and one of Charlie's old t-shirts, which was currently swallowing him up.

Percy was very happy, at least for those four hours that he was in his flat. He stared outside in muggle London, and watched little girls play with their giant dog outside. He could even hear them laughing. It was very nice.

With dejection weighing heavily in his head, Percy changed and left his flat. The farther away he was from his flat, the more that he could feel the soreness in his teeth, the pounding in his head and the ringing in his ears.

He took the journey to Devon by muggle train. The closer he was to home, the more he felt his chest ache.

By afternoon, he sneaked backdoor into the kitchen. The Burrow was eerie silent. There were no new messes. With a looming weight over his shoulders, Percy slowly moved to the Weasley family clock. All their handles were pointed towards _HOSPITAL_. Save for his wonky-looking one, and Fred's was nowhere to be seen. They'd obviously tossed it away because they couldn't bear to look at it.

Percy swallowed the lump in his throat, and then decided that he was going to the hospital after all.

He'd never been filled with this much dread in his whole life. Even during the battle, he was fuelled with an adrenaline that made everything seem justifiable. When Fred died, there was this kind of numbness and it wasn't until the next morning that he'd realised _what had just happened_. And now, he was going to be reunited with his whole family—not just bits and pieces of it—and their version of the story would be Bill's 'Percy tried to kill George with the power of his run-on sentences! So I've repeatedly thrashed him into the wall because and that solved _everything!_ '

This was _horrible_. This was ridiculous. Ludicrous. Horrifying. Percy knew this time, it wasn't his fault but he felt like his mind and body weighed heavily with guilt.

At St Mungo's, Percy didn't have to look around much. He found George's room fairly quickly thanks to the days he used to spend here with Penelope when she was studying to become a healer.

He walked inside, having an old bag slung over his shoulders. A hospital visit always meant someone had to bring the necessities by, and he doubted that his family would, considering that they let vermin infest the house and consumed bags of fat and salt (spending money they didn't _have_ ) because nobody could be bothered to chop carrots and put bread in the toaster. Percy placed the bag down on a table that had more half-filled orange juice cups than a children's party, and pulled out a big t-shirt he knew George used to live in before along with a pair of Charlie's sweatpants.

Strangely enough, George didn't seem to want to attack Percy anymore. Perhaps, it was the copious amount of pain potions he must be on judging by the self-filling intravenous lines attached to his body.

George sat up as Percy inched closer, and he was very cautious not to do anything that would make George hurt himself even more than he already was. At the very least, they now had matching bandages on each other's heads—of course, George's was nicer looking. Percy's was haphazardly made, because one couldn't exactly bandage themselves neatly when they were bleeding. Thus, if Percy suffered from any form of brain damage, he wouldn't know. He was just counting his lucky stars that he wouldn't end up with a degenerative disease in the next few years because his brother whacked him over the head. You know, the big brother that had been bitten by a human wolf and had abandoned his _'take a chill potion'_ ways. Thus, Bill had to succumb to a temper that could scare off mountain trolls.

George didn't seem to mind undressing in front of Percy. He discarded his gaudy sweatpants, and purple t-shirt to put on another purple t-shirt and even gaudier sweatpants.

For someone that was all gloom and doom, George was very colourful. Red hair, bright clothes, shiny IV lines.

Then, he fiddled with his thumbs and stared at Percy's big bandage on his big head.

Percy stared at the floor because he felt like making too much eye contact with George might result in him having more than a headache and a sore tooth. George stared at Percy because he had a big bandage too. Wonderful bonding time. Percy was really getting to know George beyond the explicit rage that he had acquired after his twin's passing away. Which brought Percy to the issue of _why wasn't anyone planning a funeral?_

George sat up on the edge of the bed, and then gestured for Percy to sit beside him.

Percy swallowed the lump in his throat, and then moved to sit down right beside George. They didn't do anything. Percy's feet touched the floor, but George's shorter ones were swinging his around. Despite being obscenely guarded, Percy wouldn't lie about the fact that it was a nice feeling. Being sat here with George. Not being killed by George.

Percy's heart nearly jumped out of its chest when he saw his mother walk in.

Molly Weasley looked like a mess. Her hair was flying in more directions than a confused Chaser. Her face was paler than it had ever been – almost moonstone powder pale. Her eyes were bloodshot, and she looked vulnerable and so _sad_. She was wearing a pair of robes that were now tight on her, but Percy remembered them as maternity robes from when she had Ron. They were awful. She hated these robes with a passion. _He_ hated these ugly robes with a passion.

"Mother?" Percy got up and waited for her to engulf him in a hug. She did no such thing.

Molly stared at him like she barely recognised him. "You..." She paused. "You changed the wallpaper in _MY_ house."

Percy felt like he'd been slapped. Yes, he did change the wallpaper in the house. The old one was peeling off, and had giant dirty insects taking refuge in them. "Yes."

"What else did you do?" Molly moved close to him, and Percy sunk into the bed. _"What did you do to my house?"_

"It isn't _my_ fault, mother," Percy suddenly felt like defending himself. Maybe Bill had knocked his sense out of his head. The point of him being in the Burrow was to remedy things, not worsen them. Thus far, he'd made his mother unhappy and got George sent to the hospital. Just what they needed. "I think it's ridiculous that you have to apparate inside the house because it's got clogged with so much rubbish that even flobberworms find it inhabitable. No, they've not been living in the rubbish in the living room. No way. They've decided living between the walls is _far_ better."

"Don't talk to me like that!" She called out defensively. "Do you understand, Percival? Do you?"

Percy crossed his arms over his chest, and then straightened himself up.

"You aren't six anymore," Molly said, moving towards George to inspect his head wound, as if she was the healer that bandaged it up. George squirmed uncomfortably in her presence. "It's lost its charm. Moving things around. Doing whatever you want in my house. Tearing down the wallpaper that my mother has had for over a decade because you couldn't be bothered to put in a little salt and water in between to kill a few flobberworms."

"Mother, with the amount of insects living between our walls, I'd need to flood the house with the Great Lake just to make sure that I've gotten them all!" Percy yelled back. He couldn't believe he was in the hospital with George and his mother was slagging him off for a bloody _WALLPAPER._ "And I suppose that wouldn't take care of the eggs that they'd managed to lay there either."

Molly looked like she was crumbling like an old, stale biscuit. Eyes blurring with tears.

"Mother," Percy was very serious. "A pig wouldn't dare live in that filth and don't tell me otherwise."

She pretended like Percy wasn't there now, because she just turned to George and then asked, "Come on, love. Let's get your things so we can take you home. The healers said that you're alright now. There doesn't seem to be anything wrong from the diagnostic spells they've run on you." She then, in a very loud voice said, "I'm sure _PERCY_ will try not to get your skull crashed into the stairs that he's just cleaned _because I'm such an incapable mother!_ How in Merlin's name could I have survived all these _YEARS_ without him!"

George's face was very vacant, but he slowly nodded his head. He hadn't stopped staring at Percy.

Percy's whole world brightened up when he saw Ginny walk into the room. She looked so unaffected by everything—wearing her usual black leggings, and a shockingly bright t-shirt. It could be another summer altogether, a brighter one! Her freckled face, almost blood-red hair, and her sunny glow.

Ginny's face twisted into a look that looked like a mixture of anger and shock. "Bill did _that?_ "

Percy rubbed the bandage spot at the back of his head. It did nothing but give him a sudden explosive headache that felt like he had been hit by a hammer. He probably should not have done that. "Yes. I believe he wanted me to see what it was like to bleed heavily after being repeatedly hit by a flat surface. However, fortunately, I do not think that I have sustained any kind of permanent brain damage."

Ginny didn't look like she found any of that funny. "Let the healers make sure you're okay."

"We're broke," said Molly quickly, looking fed up with everything right now. "We can't afford it. He looks fine."

Percy squirmed uncomfortably when she said that, but Ginny didn't look uncomfortable at all. Just appalled and horrified that Molly even said those things.

"We can't _AFFORD_ it?" Ginny reiterated, her hands shaking. She grabbed Percy's arm and tore him away. "We can't afford to make sure that Percy isn't going to bleed into his sheets and die tonight? Mum, this is ridiculous. _I'm_ taking Percy to get checked out by someone right now… Come on, Percy."

Percy did not want to be taken by his _baby sister_ to the healers.

To prevent himself (and his mother) from losing it, he diverted Ginny towards another path.

Percy kept his eyes on the ground, as he walked over to the paediatric division. Ginny kept on giving him looks, reminding him that just because he _acted_ like a big baby didn't mean he _was_ a big baby. Percy didn't respond to those comments. He knocked on a door at the end of a hallway, right between a water fountain and a row of purple chairs.

He knocked on the door again when there was no response, and just let himself in.

The whole world stood still for at least a few minutes, as Penelope Clearwater looked up from her desk and stared at him. When he was younger, Percy kept on holding her hand because he didn't want her to get lost in Diagon Alley. Yes, he held his _girlfriend's_ hand like she was just a child so she wouldn't get lost—even though Penelope was five-foot-eight, had hair that made Bill's look non-existent and had more curves than Madam Padifoot's had romantically themed tea drinks. Losing her in a crowd would be like losing anAntipodean Opaleye in a field of weeds.

Her hair. It was so short now. It nearly rivalled with his. Curly, light-coloured and just went past her ear with a strawberry blonde undertone. Percy realised this meant that he had the same hair as a _woman_. What a confidence booster. He had always wanted to look like the ex-fiancée that ruined his life.

"Percy," Penelope moved closer to him, and he could smell her perfume. She changed the one she used to wear. It was _very_ unsettling. Her eyes, whilst sparkling with hope, didn't have that light that they used to. Maybe betraying him, crushing his heart, and changing his ability to trust people had something to do with it. She noticed the bandage—not that hard to miss, it covered half his bloody head—and she gestured for him to sit down on her chair.

"You're looking _so well!_ " Penelope yelled, "Except for the fact that, you know, you look the worst I've ever seen you."

She unbandaged him, and then looked over at Ginny with a wide smile on her face.

"Ginny!" Penelope's chestnut-brown eyes lit up, pulling out her wand. "I didn't recognise you there! _WOW_. You really developed into a mature young woman. I'm sure you're fighting off men with a Quidditch bat wherever you go."

"Don't remind me, Penelope," Percy did not want to think of all the men he was going to have to threaten if they even dared to think about his sister inappropriately. He subsequently did not want to think about all the times he will have his arse kicked because he tried to defend Ginny's honour when he, in fact, could not defend his own.

Penelope rolled her eyes. "What? You're just going to forever implant it in your head that she's taped a few melons to her chest instead of embracing the fact that your sister is attractive? She deserves it. She worked hard for that body."

Percy wanted to die. Pity he had to wait a year. "I worked hard for my sanity. Nobody wants to keep _that_ intact."

He could hear her running a complete diagnostic spell scan on him. Percy loathed diagnostic spells. There was always a period of waiting, no idea to know if the news was good or bad. He could never read the blasted diagnosis himself because he could decipher what the symbols on the wand meant. She could now tell him that there was nothing wrong with him, or tell him that he had a gigantic aneurysm and he'd have to take her for her word. Pleasant. Him taking the word of a lying blonde-with-strawberry-blonde-highlights. That _conniving_ little—

"Can you pass me the white thing on the tray there? The little bottle?" Penelope asked Ginny.

Percy didn't realise that the sperm bank worked had stooped so low as to give Penelope a baby when she was so sure she was not able to take care of one baby without _all_ of Percy's money a year ago.

Penelope ran her hand down from his head to his shoulders and massaged them. He melted into her touch despite him not wanting to. She used to do that when he was stressed for exams and—

 _No!_ Percy told himself. _She is a vile woman! You do not melt into the arms of vile women. Except after the fall of Voldemort._

He did _not_ want to think about what he did with Daphne Greengrass a few hours after the war. _At least_ she was legal.

But it felt good. To be massaged very thoroughly. Penelope always knew how to make him relax.

Percy's world crashed down around him when he saw the picture on her desk. He couldn't help but pick it up to look at it. The little girl in the photo was a picture-perfect copy of his father – dark-chocolate brown hair, big doe-like brown eyes, and wearing an oversized Puddlemere United t-shirt. She wasn't smiling initially in the photograph, but then she looked up, saw the photographer and beamed at them. Percy was almost certain that it was Penelope that the little girl was staring at. The little girl with bigger hopes and dreams than Percy would ever know…

Penelope seemed to stiffen momentarily, but then moved to pick up the diagnostics wand.

"Have you been feeling nauseous in the morning or been vomiting recently?" She asked. Percy was feeling nauseous right now, and did indeed feel like vomiting when he saw the photograph but he just shook his head. "Your big, fat brain is a little swollen, Percy. So, I'm going to give you a potion. Take it twice a day for a week. _With_ food."

"Typical," Percy mumbled. He hit his head and now, it was a little swollen. He thought it was just his thoughts of self-destruction and hatred that were making his head feel heavy. He put the picture back on her desk.

Ginny crossed her arms, a self-righteous look on her face. "See?" She said. "I _knew_ there was something wrong! Mum telling me that we can't bloody afford it—my arse. What if your brain got so big it exploded?"

"Ginevra, if that _could_ happen," Percy said, staring over at her. "I promise you it already would've."

"It's on me. It's _always_ on me, Percy," Penelope said, regarding Ginny's comment on not being able to afford it. She offered him a bottle of a bright blue substance. Percy shuddered at the look of it. "What happened anyway?"

Percy took the bottle and leaned back against the chair. He did not want to tell Penelope what happened.

"Bill violently attacked Percy for no reason whatsoever," Ginny crossed her arms over her chest. Percy wished that she wouldn't talk to Penelope. He just wanted to get out of here. He was only here to appease Ginny anyway without somehow making their mum go mad with the thought of 'having to pay another bill'. "What have you been doing now that the war of the ages is done with? I see that you've cut your hair! It looks different! It looks nice."

Percy did not think it was nice. He just twirled the bottle in his hand as she fixed his bandage up for him.

"I got married. I had a baby," Penelope said, her cheeks reddened. _Why was that?_ Percy wondered, rolling his eyes. He certainly didn't have a clue. "I... I best be going away now though. But you could stop by any time."

Penelope looked over at Percy, "Any time really. Anywhere. To talk about anything… _even_ uncomfortable topics."

Percy got up from where he was stood, nodding his head and clenched onto the bottle. He gestured for Ginny and him to walk out of the room. Well, honestly, Percy wanted to sprint out of the room before—

 _"PERCY!"_ Penelope suddenly called out. She leaned against the door. "Um, would you come to my flat for dinner? It's the same flat that..." She looked torn apart. "I'm sorry about Fred."

"Thank you for all your condolences," Percy replied. It was very hard to keep the iciness out of his tone. "No, I will _not_ go to your flat for dinner. I'm very busy doing _nothing_ at the Burrow. You must understand."

"Oh," Penelope said, her cheeks reddening. "Yes, I do," her voice was almost in a whisper.

Ginny didn't seem to be happy about Percy telling Penelope that. Actually, she was very livid as she walked behind him with a look of shock on her face.

"What did you do _that_ for? Did you have to be a bloody arsehole to your girlfriend? _Ex_ -girlfriend I take it? She was really bloody nice!" Ginny said, dropping her arms to her side. "If this is about Bill threatening to shatter your collarbones if you even dare to think of doing anything fun, then that's ridiculous."

Did Bill _really_ threaten to shatter his collarbones? Percy mused. How nice.

"Not ex-girlfriend—ex- _fiancée_ ," Percy said, and then stared over Ginny. "This not about Bill. This is about the fact that Penny" he shook his head, he was not using _that_ name, "— _PENELOPE_ —spent approximately seven months successfully deceiving me. In fact, she made me believe that she pregnant with my child when, in fact, she was busy frolicking about with my dormmate from Hogwarts. And had been for our _entire_ relationship. Even when she'd agreed to marry me, she'd been secretly using me as an indirect link to sleep with Oliver Wood without the rest of his teammates finding out that he's been sleeping with a muggleborn. So _NO_ , I am not going to dinner to her and her husband's flat just because she's blessed my bruises and waved her wand around a few times."

She _used_ him to get close to Oliver. A ridiculous notion. Percy didn't know anything about Oliver Wood, except that when he woke up at five in the morning, he was hardly noiseless about it.

Ginny was surprised to hear that. Percy didn't blame her. Penelope had been nothing but perfect around everyone. Even now, he found it hard to think about the fact that she was not his perfect little Penelope with the painted lips and the shiny eyes that could make any day feel like it lasted for years. She had been his little bundle of joy. Pity she turned out to be more sour than sweet. Percy never really liked apple rings you know.

"Ginny?" Percy suddenly noticed she was turning the other direction to go back to Penelope—probably to tell her off. This was _not_ a good idea. "Ginny, don't."

"Why not? _I worked hard for this body_ ," Ginny said mockingly. "I should go and show her how hard I worked for it by making sure she can't have anything she has to chew without thinking of me!"

"Ginny!" Percy grabbed her arm but all Ginny managed to do was drag him with her. "If mum finds out about this, then I'll be in _serious_ trouble for letting you get into Azkaban. Don't you think there's been enough bloodshed and massacre already? We've just ended a war you know… This is _not_ a very nice thing to do!"

Ginny didn't seem to want to listen to his reasoning and opened the door to Penelope's office again.

Penelope was slouched over the chair, tears running down her cheeks, as she sobbed. She was holding an absolutely tattered, scarlet teddy bear in her long arms. That teddy bear was the first thing that he'd bought for his 'daughter', and it was had more missing body parts than it had intact ones. At least his teddy couldn't _see_ how mutilated he was because his glasses were missing. Penelope's curly hair falling in front of her eyes and her body trembling. Percy placed a hand on Ginny's shoulder and told her calmly, "Go make sure that our family didn't do anything obscene."

Ginny nodded her head. "I just want it to go on the record, Miss Clearwater, that _I_ think you're an unpleasant tart," she said. "I'll see you at home, Percy." Oh joy. His little sister wouldn't leave without telling Penelope that she should be glad that Percy was flippantly against violence. You know, _excluding_ what happened to Rockwood.

Percy's hand clenched tighter around his bottle. He didn't say anything for a while, even after Ginny left.

"She was technically about to butcher you," Percy said. He was not very good at comforting anyone. He moved close to her and leaned against the table. He saw her stare back up at him, not bothering to clean her face off. "I told her about our— _err_ —complicated relationship."

"What _relationship?_ " Penelope called out acerbically. There went his bundle of sunshine and joy. "I fucked it up."

"Penelope, I surely hope you don't talk to Noelene like that," Percy said in a stern voice. "But yes, you did indeed completely and utterly smash our relationship into small little pieces. Just like you did with Mr Beary Potter."

Penelope looked down at the teddy bear in her arms, a smile on her lips. "Mr Beary Potter?"

"Yes," Percy said, straightening up. "Or whatever is left of him after you annihilated him."

Penelope's smile dropped and she kept shuffling her feet. "Oliver and I are getting a divorce," she admitted, and Percy certainly wished he could be smug about it. He loathed himself for caring about how she felt even after all she had done to him. She put Beary down, playing with his mutilated ear. "He cheated on me."

Percy's heart just dropped into his stomach. "He did _what?_ "

he then tried to sober up to the fact _she_ cheated on him. It did not help. Just because she lied about carrying his baby for seven months and lied about being interested in him for five years did not mean that he ceased to care about her. Wow. He really was a prat.

"I'll bloody kill him!" Percy yelled. Yes. He was not reacting to this normally. He was supposed to be smug. And rub it in her face. _Haha_. 'See? Oliver didn't love you. We could've been happy, but you shagged a moron instead.'

Penelope was surprised to hear that. She stood up, "Percy, you _must_ be joking… _I_ cheated on _YOU!_ "

By then, Percy had apparated away because he was very sensible.

Percy found himself in the middle of Diagon Alley, walking down to Penelope's flat—it used to be _their_ flat, but that was before he found out _his fiancée was cheating on him_. Yes, remembering that didn't help. He was trying to remind himself that this was not normal. People did not go and yell at their ex-fiancée's cheating, lying husbands after their ex-fiancée's cheated, lied to him and then decided to keep Percy's very expensive engagement ring.

Percy didn't hesitate walking into the flat, knowing exactly where Penelope kept her spare keys.

 _Shoved up your stupid arse_ , he told himself. Percy bet Penelope would join him soon, reminding him he was a twat.

He opened the door and then was immediately met by the nauseating smell of unearthly curry wafting from the kitchen. He put his hands over his nose, and then felt his stomach flip. _Holy mother of…_

Percy trudged through to the kitchen, where he found the most disgusting sight he'd ever seen.

Oliver Wood, stood in his undergarments, holding a pan of slimy, green curry. Percy knew that Oliver was not very good at Potions, and it was even more evident in his culinary skills. Instead of tearing Oliver a new one, he ended up on the ground, throwing up stomach acid in their bin because he hadn't eaten since the morning and there was nothing really to vomit. Which made this a particularly commending feat. Oliver's toxic curry made Percy vomit when he had _nothing_ to vomit! What _on Earth_ did Penelope see in _that_ man? Percy was sure that it wasn't his culinary skills.

 _"PERCY! YOU ARE INSANE! I CAN'T BELIEVE THAT YOU WOULD-I HOPE THAT YOU DIDN'T—"_ he heard Penelope yell as she walked in her flat and to the door. She was panting, having have run after him. She did not seem to be affected by the noxious fumes coming out of Oliver's pot of unholy shrubbery. "Are you alright?"

"Me?" Percy just looked up at Penelope with a serious look on his face. "I am in the best shape in my life."

He knew that his smell senses were functioning. Even his sick smelled better than Oliver's curry.

" _Why_ is there a prat in our kitchen?" Oliver looked like he wanted to pick a fight with Penelope and Percy's head was pounding because that odour was worse than any dung bomb he'd ever smelled. His accent was thick, Scottish and irritating the bloody hell out of Percy. "Is he here to defend you, dear gracious Penelope? I've seen snitches bigger than he is. I'd fight the little snot but I'm afraid to kill him even in a mental tug-o-war. Can't afford to go to Azkaban what with the new season up ahead! I might get off the reserve team, you know."

Percy buried his head into his knees. He could not believe his luck. Oliver Wood couldn't even _threaten_ _someone_ without mentioning his Merlin forsaken Quidditch. And Penelope left him for that brainless sack of flobberworms?

"Percy," Penelope leaned down to his eye-level and pulled him up. Yes, she successfully managed to pull him up to his feet as if he was completely weightless. That made him feel up to par with Oliver Wood. "Let me take you home."

Percy was seeing stars. Was it _normal_ to see stars after smelling a curry?

"He's just confused," Penelope said to Oliver in a cold voice. "His head is swollen."

"He had to go to _you_ to figure out that his big fat head is swollen?" Oliver said in mock surprise. "I could've told him that for free. I didn't need a bloody medical degree to figure that one out either."

"Penelope, I am feeling very nauseous and have vomited," Percy said, throat sore. "Am I going to die?"

Penelope told him not to be so daft. She took him to their living room with little Noelene staring at Percy like he was a foreign being. She ran to him, clinging onto him excitedly. It made Percy feel awful, thinking that she could've been _his_ in some alternative universe.

Percy hated to travel by Floo powder. It made him feel like he had the bloody flu after!

When he came home, Percy had promptly thrown himself over at the Weasley family couch and then buried his head into the pillow and slept and slept and _slept_.

He was woken up when someone grabbed him by his shoulder, pulled him to his feet and forcefully walked him outside. Percy hadn't opened his eyes fully by then, exhaustion weighing heavily on him. He thought that he must be dreaming because nobody would dare wake him up. He'd kill them when he regained full consciousness.

Percy sat up, and looked up, expecting to see Bill but instead, noticing that his father was standing there.

Arthur was not sober that was for sure. Percy could smell it wafting off his body. The strong smell of liquor combined with what Percy believed to be an illegal psychoactive substance made Percy stand up straighter and stare at Arthur with a combination of shock and disgust. This was definitely _not_ the post-war reunion he had planned.

"That was _highly_ uncalled for, father," Percy said, rubbing his neck. He felt awful being woken up like this.

Arthur stared at Percy, like he was just seeing what kind of person he was for the first time in a long time.

 _He's finally realised how much he bloody loathes you_ , Percy told himself. And he was not wrong.

"Did you fucking do this?" Arthur waved around a paper, looking so red that Percy was wondering what on Earth was going on. Other than his father inappropriately swearing at him. " _Did you?_ How _dare_ you?"

"Do what?" Percy said in a squeaky tone of voice, moving away from his father. "What did _I_ do?"

Arthur viciously thrusted the crumbled-up piece of paper towards him. It was obviously a Ministry document. Percy's chest ached when he realised exactly what he was reading— _Fred's will_.

And he had left everything he had, excluding the joke shop (which was already signed in George's name because George did all the paperwork), to _Percy_. Percy felt himself go numb. He could read it over again all he wanted, _but he just couldn't believe it_. Percy looked away from the paper and back to his father's face. Arthur then offered him an envelope that was sealed tight with a bright purple concealment charm.

Percy used to use those for his letters to Penelope. The twins spent ages trying to break the charm! Concealment charms wouldn't allow anyone _but_ the intended party to open the envelope in question!

So here Percy was standing, holding what was probably the last new bit of anything that Fred had given anyone. The guilt was killing him. Fred didn't leave anything for George. He left it for _him_.

He sat down by the shed, holding the letter in his hands. It could just be one to tell Percy that this will was a fake, the real document was somewhere else completely and that he couldn't believe that Percy fell for it. It could be Fred telling him big secrets that he'd never told Percy when he was alive. Like that he'd stolen 10,000 sickles and now, Percy had to repay the debt for the rest of his life because he was a prat that deserved a life debt. It could be Fred telling Percy that he'd only given him all his things so that Percy could stare at them for the rest of his life and remember that he was the one that destroyed Fred's life. _He was the reason Fred was dead. He was_ —

"Hey," George's voice brought him back to reality. He was standing there, looking even more knackered than Percy.

Percy immediately stood up, and pulled his shirt down, because his choice of underpants was showing. Inappropriate.

"Hello," Percy said in a soft voice. "I… _err_ … I suppose you did not have a chance to see the official document? To be completely fair, I think Fred was not of sound mind as he stated when—"

"Fred was definitely of _sound mind_. You're talking about the fact that he gave every blasted thing to you? Including his inappropriate collection of magazines mind you. I hope you love Charming Cunts as much as he did," George looked so distressed. It wasn't like the nice time they had in the hospital, bonding over… something. Though he supposed finding out Fred left him their shop and nothing else was not exactly something to think lightly of.

" _HE TOLD ME WHEN HE WAS ALIVE! I DIDN'T THINK HE ACTUALLY WENT THROUGH WITH IT!_ We had a big bloody fight about it because _I've_ left everything to Fred," George ranted. He didn't look very happy at all. "You know why? Because he's my fucking _TWIN_ brother! But no! He had to leave everything to the _PRAT_ that doesn't care about anyone but himself! Probably because he found Dad's will!"

Percy just registered what George had told him. "What does our father's will have anything to…?"

 _"WHY DO YOU THINK?!"_ George yelled back. " _HE CUT YOU OUT OF IT!"_

Percy was shocked. His eyes were blurring with unshed tears but he kept them at bay. He would _not_ cry.

"He…" George's voice became lower. Even he realised he was out of line.

Percy was clinging onto the papers like mad, but he didn't want the papers. He wanted Fred back. But he couldn't sound any of this out. He just kept the thought in his head because he didn't think he had the right to say any of that given that _he_ was the one that bloody murdered his own baby brother out of his own jealousy.

Percy was not sure how he was supposed to deal with the heavy burden of that awful guilt. He had to fix it. This family. He had to fix this family somehow, and Percy had to make sure his father was _not_ abusing substances that he thought only old potion hippies used. Swearing at him! Really!

But how did Bill or Molly or Ron or Ginny or Charlie feel like to know that Fred had left everything to the brother that disowned himself from the family he hated? They probably felt like Percy got everything he'd ever wanted. Even after Fred died. Now, Percy had something else to boost his ego with.

'Fred left me _everything!_ His money, his flat and even his underpants are all _my_ belongings! Nothing for you!'

And then his family could squabble over _things_ like pitiful children. Like Fred's things mattered. Like if they had enough of Fred's things, he would materialise out of thin air and they could all be a happy family again. But Percy was sure that even if he managed to glue them all back together, there would be cracks. He could try to paint them or gloss them over, but Percy _knew_ that they'd be there.

"What's that?" George suddenly asked, grabbing the envelope from his hand and staring at it. "Fred wrote this. He wrote this to _YOU?!_ He didn't fucking write _ME_ a single fucking thing."

Percy stared at George. He could burn that envelope, and it wouldn't do a thing. It needed Percy's touch to open.

"So, his last words are to you," George concluded, waving the envelope. "Not _ME_. His fucking _TWIN_ brother."

Percy swallowed the lump in his throat—the one that felt like his throbbing heart. "I am very sorry, George."

George sat down beside him. "Let me see," he demanded. "I want to know what those bastard's last words are."

The seal broke at Percy's touch, and he was surprised that there was no scary, loud confetti or obnoxious smells. There wasn't a letter there after all. He pulled out a small little metal trinket of an old black shoe from an envelope. It was a small Quidditch trinket related to Percy's favourite Quidditch team (yes, he did love and follow Quidditch)—the Ballycastle Bats. All their Quidditch players were vampires and they wore old black shoes every game. Centuries old, mind you.

"What is _this?_ " George noticed the look of realisation on Percy's face. "You two have fucking _inside jokes_ now? What else? Are we triplets, Percy? Is that the big secret that I'm not bloody getting here?"

"Err…" Percy put the little charm down. "This is from a Cherri-Owls box. You were six. I did not get the trinket at the end of the box because Charlie took it—despite it being _my_ box of cereal and despite the fact that Charlie loathes the Ballycastle Bats, which was— _is_ —my favourite Quidditch team, and I was upset. So, you both consoled me."

"What did Fred say that was _SO GREAT_ that you two decided to be best fucking friends!?" George yelled.

Percy frowned. "Fred didn't say anything. You're the twin that says all the nice things, remember? And... I believe _you_ said that," Percy twirled the cheap trinket of an old black shoe around his hand, put it into George's hands and then said, "One day _you_ were going to give me everything you ever had so I wouldn't be sad ever again."

George's eyes hardened. "You bastard! You're trying to guilt-trip me into—"

"I believe you promised me all kinds of things—ranging from meeting the main player down to buying me an endless supply of butterscotch ice-cream," Percy smiled slightly at the memory, if only for a moment. "I believe I even laughed when you mentioned that you were going to make sure that I was going to eat so much ice-cream that it was going to come out of my nose!" At this, Percy actually did laugh, but it sounded empty. Because there was something so hilarious about dairy products coming out of your nasal cavity, right?

"I _did_ used to laugh you know," he stated when he saw the look of surprise on George's face. "I believe that you've convinced yourself I wouldn't know a smile if someone carved it into my face, but it certainly wasn't always like that. I believe we used to be very good friends. Almost like… best friends, really. We were— _um_ …"

George shook his head. "No, you're lying." He shook his head even more fervently.

Percy stared at George, like he was pitying him almost. "When have I ever—?"

" _YOU'RE BLOODY LYING!_ That's all you've ever done," George was shaking right now. He looked so furious and ashamed. There were tears bubbling in his light brown eyes. "You— _YOU DON'T EVEN CARE ABOUT THE FACT THAT FRED'S DEAD! YOU DON'T! YOU DON'T CARE! YOU CAN CLEAN HOUSES AND YOU ACT LIKE EVERYTHING'S FINE! I KNOW! I KNOW! I KNOW! BUT YOU DON'T CARE!"_

Percy didn't let his eyes leave George's face, who bit down on his lip so hard it almost bled.

George pulled his fist up in the air, and Percy wrapped his hands around his head to shield himself. Two blows to the head might not be a good thing. Funny. He said that and he was planning on going to kill himself anyway.

George's face softened, he dropped his hands to his eyes.

"No, no, _NO_ —it wasn't Cherri-Owls, you incoherent prat! You're allergic to them," George's voice was cracked and raspy. It sounded like it hurt for him to speak. "You were eating _PIXIE PUFFS!_ You're the only one in our bloody family that eats those blasted fat-coated pink sugar puffs. Nobody in our house is as girlish as you are. I remember because Ballycastle Bats is for thirteen-year-old girls that think that _vampires are SO hot!_ "

Yes. Yes. Percy's eyes lit up. It had been, indeed, a box of Pixie Puffs that he was eating!

Percy opened his mouth to confirm this, but instead, all he saw was George staring down at the ground, hot tears falling down his cheeks as he sobbed and sniffled to himself. Percy moved closer to George, but his younger brother just shook his head and moved away.

"No. No. Go away," George said. "Go into the house or something… I don't want to talk about this."

Percy nodded his head. He could respect that George did not want to see anyone.

He walked over to the backdoor, opening the door to the kitchen but Arthur, who was conveniently standing there, slammed the door in his face and told him to, _"SHOVE OFF!"_

 _"HOW OLD ARE YOU, FATHER?!"_ Percy suddenly called out after that, sighing as he put the trinket in his pocket. _"I WILL COME BACK TOMORROW WHETHER YOU LIKE IT OR NOT! AND IF YOU THROW ME OUT, I'LL COME BACK THE FOLLOWING DAY. AND THE NEXT… UNTIL YOU REALISE THAT_ YOU _HAVE A BLOODY RESPONSIBILITY TO THIS HOUSE, AND NOT YOUR TWENTY-TWO-YEAR-OLD SON!"_

Percy noticed that George was sat on the ground with the will in his hands, clutching onto the paper so tightly it was like someone told him it might bring Fred back from the dead.

Percy turned to walk away, not exactly excited about spending the day with his loving parents and his even more so loving father. He just wanted to get the hell out of this house as quickly as possible because he lost whatever shard of sanity he had left in him. He missed his flat. He missed that, in his flat, he could pretend like he was the only miserable person in the whole wide world if he wanted and the whole of muggle London would accommodate him.

As he stormed off, he heard footsteps behind him. He turned around and saw George pacing after him. He didn't look as angry or as depressed as before, which surprise Percy.

From the looks of George these days, one would think that he was going to carry around an eternal cloud of doom and despair wherever he went. The same could be said for the rest of his family really.

"Can I come with, you smarmy git?" George asked. And Percy just wanted to disappear.

"My flat is in muggle London," Percy said, trying to discourage George from coming with. "And my name is _PERCY_. You have not said my name in so long I'm convinced you've forgotten it. But I'm sure that might help jog your memory slightly, considering I did live with you for eighteen years."

Truth be told, Percy did not want George anywhere near his flat, near Audrey, or to soil his day even more than he already had. This day was just _tiring_. He almost was glad his father threw him out of the house because he was not very happy about the fact that he had to return to the Burrow after vomiting in his ex-fiancée's flat and criticising his mother, who probably now didn't want to knit him a single thing ever in her life. She was probably sulking about how he was a prat. It hurt Percy to think about it. Molly was his _mother_ after all. He thought that she was the only one that would never change. The war turned his sweet, beautiful mother into this bitter person. Percy _had_ to save her.

Well, at least he wouldn't be tempted to kill himself with George in the flat. Percy knew that he didn't want to put George through the hectic job of cleaning up the mess afterwards—even if it was nothing compared to the mess that Percy had to tackle in the Burrow as of late!

"Muggle London?" George then broke the first smile that Percy had seen in ages. He hoped to Merlin this was not a mood swing and George could heal now. He wanted to hope that at least George was beginning to cope—it might help everyone else from sulking. _George was his twin—why wasn't anyone making sure that he was okay?_ "I hope you have a room in your super-secret, wonderful muggle London flat for your sweet little brother… _PERCY!"_

 _Yes, I have a room for you,_ Percy thought to himself. _The bloody bathroom that is._


	4. Chapter 4

**i've been trying to write the next chapter (Chapter Five actually) for ages. i know you're like: okay, what does this have to do with Chapter Four? i made a deal that if it's too hard, i could just change whatever i've written in this chapter! but when i post a chapter, it's like... i can't just take it back and delete it! (i can technically but imagine how messy it'll be!) i rewrote so much of these chapters that i have to keep an Excel page just for it because the original document/way the chapter was written is seared in my head... though i've deleted it!**

 **comment replies:**

 **K.J. Bollinger:** **i don't really know if i'm going to touch on it in super detail but basically it implies she's only been with Percy so that she could get close to Oliver (which Percy finds weird because he's not friends with Oliver). and that she lied about wanting to be with him, later on wanting to marry him and have his baby. i'm sure she'll crop up eventually. i'm just not sure when! i'll see if i can have more of a discussion about it later too. :)**

 **Phoenixx Rising : oh, if you have mixed feelings about George, you're definitely going to be on the fence with Charlie (if i post it as the next chapter as it is!). i've been writing the next chapter and wow, it's... nothing that i ever expected. these characters are SO volatile it's insane.**

 **malfoyravenclaw555 : really? it's more realistic? wow, what a compliment! i was really just going for maximum setting angst, but... without attacking anyone, i do know there are stories where it's like "Fred is dead!" and then "okay, who's burying the body?" i just think that it's really sad that they're coming out of a war and everyone is like in so much pain instead of celebrating... breaks my heart. :( **

* * *

**Love and Old Black Shoes**

Chapter Four

* * *

Percy bet that George was having the time of his life, listening to Percy go on about how he was going to exterminate the 'little feral, blood-sucking parasites' that dared to ask him how he felt today. Essentially a normal Saturday night.

The whole ride here, Percy was in a foul mood.

He heard George complain about the fact that they were wizards, so why were they taking the _muggle bus_ when they could've taken the magical route and been in London in the blink of an eye and the whisper of a dragon? Percy said nothing, because he did not think he could adequately explain to George that he wanted to spend _four hours_ in a bus with blokes that had forgotten to shower this year and loud babies waving around their fat, wet hands.

In the first hour, George said, "Perce, I think you've _forgotten_ that you could use magic."

In the second hour, George told him that he was hungry, and Percy told him to shut up.

In the third hour, George told him he was hungry again, and Percy thought it be adequate to steal a baby's bottle and shove it into his little brother's mouth. Merlin knew he did it enough times when George was growing up.

In the fourth hour, George was going on and on about how fascinated he was by the fact that Percy had to pay with 'old parchment paper' to get on the bus and how he was such a _twittering, twittering twat_. By that point, Percy seriously wanted to steal a baby's bottle and shove it up _another_ one of George's orifice.

When they got off the bus, the first thing George said was that he didn't know why Arthur and Percy weren't getting along considering that Percy knew all kinds of muggle things now!

Percy agreed. He now knew that blenders did not randomly break into Mozart symphonies.

"I want to go in that shop—it looks like Zonko's!" George said about two minutes after they started walking down the street to Percy's flat, which was at least fifteen minutes away. To Percy, it felt like it was fifteen _hours_ away.

 _"YOU ARE NOT GOING IN THERE!"_ Percy's ears were getting red. "It is _nothing_ like Zonko's I assure you! The tricks they are advertising about here are not your— _um_ —ordinary…"

George cocked his head to one side. "Why not? Am I banned from shops now? Too attractive for muggles?"

"Hardly!" Percy scoffed. George had very large freckles, although sparse on his face and body, and Percy was convinced he looked like a reptile with biceps, triceps and all the other _ceps_ that Percy would never get because he didn't lift anything. In fact, Percy couldn't even lift his chin up in the face of his ever-growing depression.

"Then what's the problem? They have _TRICKS_ I couldn't even _IMAGINE_ in there!" George reiterated the writing on the window, and Percy wanted to scoff again. Something that _George_ couldn't even imagine?

 _Finishing school. Respecting me and my opinions. Not making a ruckus at three in the morning,_ Percy thought bitterly. _Putting the toilet seat down in respect for the fact that WOMEN live in the Burrow_.

"George, do _NOT_ go in there! It's—it's…" Percy stammered. " _Um_ … hardly inappropriate…— _GEORGE?"_

George had already bolted into store, and Percy ran after him, disrupting the last shard of dignity he had left in him.

He saw George gawking at the place with giant, chocolate-brown eyes lapping up the store like it was candy. Percy wanted to hurl. 'Eye-candy at its finest' was what Percy wanted to sarcastically (and horrifically) say.

"Perce, _this is a lingerie shop_ ," George replied in a low voice, because Percy did not have eyes and had never seen a piece of woman's undergarments not once in his life. His whole face reddened because he did not want to think about being in _this_ kind of shop. He saw George walking around, staring at a pair of candy-apple red bras that looked engineered for watermelons. "Look, Perce, these are big enough for Charlie's manly breasts."

Percy choked on nothing when George said that. But yes, Charlie was just so large that even his pectorals seemed to be bouncing whenever he moved. When Charlie smiled, the veins in his arms leaped in joy. It was very scary.

Meanwhile, Percy had to now spello-tape his _underwear_ so that it wouldn't fall off his hips.

"George, what _are_ you doing?" George was picking up a very distinctive pair of underpants.

"Look, Perce," George flipped the underpants over in his hands. "This is something someone is supposed to _wear_. I bet wearing this is like having a constant stick up your arse. You know, like the one that you've got."

Percy couldn't believe this. Merlin must be having a laugh right now.

He grabbed George's hand and then swiftly made it outside.

"My flat is only _thirteen_ minutes away and if you make another detour, I will murder you," Percy knew more people around this place than he knew back in Diagon Alley. He knew that the bloke that they were just passing thought that Percy was in the closet because he thought his robes were funny dresses. "Do you understand?"

George only beamed at him. "Have you never been in a lingerie shop before, Perce?"

"I am not discussing my sex life with you, George," Percy mumbled—or _lack of_ since he'd broken it off with Penelope.

Save for one rendezvous with a muggle woman selling strawberries just outside his flat. This woman was used to seeing him—they were _almost_ like friends. Which meant that they were halfway into being _best friends_.

Which meant that it was completely acceptable that he slept with her.

Even if it was sloppy and they never spoke to each other after that. And she left England and last Percy heard, she was in Australia, and refused to put her underpants on no matter what you told her. Percy supposed sleeping with him was the deal breaker in any relationship. Because really, they were _nearly_ best friends. Such a shame.

The whole thirteen minutes to his flat was, fortunately, without any interruption.

Percy was glad. Truth be told, he didn't _like_ people. He was a fake person who pretended to be nice to others, but all he ever wanted to do was get into the nearest private space so he could complain about how much he hated everyone.

When he walked into the flat, George decided to make Percy's aneurysm expand by a few centimetres.

"It smells like the inside of Aunt Muriel's purse," George mentioned. Because Percy knew exactly how Aunt Muriel's purse smelled like! No, he didn't used to stick his head in there, looking for sweets like the rest of his brothers did!

As Percy walked upstairs with shaky, weak legs, George continued to talk.

"Oi, Perce, you know I wonder why when people are knocked up, all you could ever talk about them is the fact that they're knocked up? It's like they become like without identity. It's like they're just a vessel for a baby."

Percy sighed and wished that Zeus would smite him with a bolt of lightning. His flat was on the _top floor!_

By the third staircase, George asked a question that would make the muggle writer Shakespeare weep.

"Do old people remind you of wet tissues, plain biscuits and cheap jewellery? Or is that just me? Is it just me?"

By the last staircase, George was laughing and decided to insult Percy, because he did not insult Percy enough today.

"How does a weed like you manage to have enough stamina to walk up seven flights of stairs every day?"

Percy wondered the same thing. He opened the door and put his coat away. His heart was starting to thump very quickly and loudly but he was not stressed in the least.

Percy bet George could imagine his old, neurotic brother living here in an old, boring place. Percy could remember the days he spent writing reports on that table—the one that was about to break down any second mind you. He could also vibrantly recall the inhuman quantities of coffee he used to chug so he could stay up through the night and get four weeks' worth of work done in three days for no other reason other than to let his superiors know that he was a brown-nosed little rat. How did Percy ever take himself seriously? 'Professionally sucks arse' was part of his resume.

"Perce," George had already attacked his fridge—well, he would've if there was anything in there but a miniscule box of dark chocolates with three small little chocolates inside. "You know, human beings like me…we _EAT_ , right?"

"I've not gone to the shop in ages, alright? So, I'm afraid that's all I have—but I do virtually have an unlimited supply of water, coffee and tea," Percy walked over to the other room. _"SHOULD I PUT THE KETTLE ON?"_ he yelled.

 _"Should I put the kettle on?"_ George mocked. " _NO!_ Order a bloody takeaway! I'm starving! I want a massive Chinese!"

"Fireball?" Percy replied in annoyance, and George laughed.

"That is the worst joke I've _ever_ heard," George decided to say. Percy did not even know it was considered a joke.

Percy went down to the local Chinese, ordered enough noodles to actually feed a Chinese fireball, and then promptly returned back to the flat and destroyed it with George. Then the following morning when he felt sick and bloated, he decided to fake the music and weigh himself. Even with what felt like a whole pound of Chinese food clogging his arteries, Percy had apparently lost one and a half stones since last time he had weighed himself.

Honestly, he could've fainted seeing that number. He was already half a stone lighter than five-foot-eight Penelope.

The thought of being _two stone lighter_ than a girl whilst being _five inches taller_ than her was embarrassing.

Even more importantly, it did not particularly scream that he was in a stable mindset—the bloke that had to spello-tape his own underpants to his body! Percy knew that either his family had not noticed or did not care, but he couldn't keep his 'I am perfectly fine' façade for long if he could barely walk straight or if he looked like he was one minute away from being sectioned for having consumption.

How could he do anything right when he was in risk of passing out from exhaustion at _all_ times?

Percy couldn't go on forever, subsisting on as little as possible. If he wanted his plan of keeping his family together to work, he had to pretend that he did not have _any_ problems whatsoever. So, this was what prompted him to take George down to the shops the following day and buy a whole lot of junk food.

When they came home, George finally had enough energy in him to take a shower for the first time in weeks (Percy counted this as a personal victory). He set to the task of making banana oat pancakes whilst George was taking a long soak. Percy didn't care if he ended up showering in the freezing cold as long as George took his time like he promised.

He heard a knock on the door and went over to open the door. Audrey was standing there, staring at the ground.

Percy took her in – olive skin, dark hair with a few thick golden streaks, beautiful doe eyes and a body that could rival with Ginny's (Percy took it that Audrey probably did whatever the muggle equivalent of Quidditch was). Percy noticed she wore her favourite lippy – the hot pink one, and her favourite red-and-green animal print leggings and matching cardigan. It almost felt like Christmas. Pity it was smack in the middle of summer then.

"I was told that I was not allowed to talk to you," Percy blurted out, which he was sure was not the correct thing to say when you have not seen someone for a long time and they were too shy to say the first few words. "In fact, a man built like the Great Wall of China told me. I would've fought him on it but I was knackered and didn't fancy getting my arse kicked after a miserable day, so..."

Audrey furrowed her eyebrows. "A man?" she reiterated before she realised exactly who he was talking about and laughed. "Percy, that's my baby brother. He's _fifteen_."

Percy was going to ask Audrey how that hefty bloke was a baby, until he realised that there was one time where Fred accidentally flexed and he _literally_ did rip through a shirt by accident. Granted that all their clothes were practically threadbare, but Percy did not have to worry about tensing his abdominals and suddenly cutting through his clothes. However, he did once tear through a pair of pants when he bent down because he had a fat arse.

"He just threatened you because… I do fancy you a little bit," Audrey admitted, looking everywhere but at him. "But I can tell that you are not interested so you don't have to let me down gently or the like. I know that with your brother's death, it isn't really the ideal time for a shag. Or in _my_ case, it's actually the most ideal time for a shag. Um…"

Percy raised an eyebrow. She _fancied_ him? That explained the staring. "Do you want to come in for breakfast?'

"You're making breakfast?" Audrey said, and then swallowed the lump in her throat. "Well, I'm afraid I've already eaten but just for you, I'll eat twice because I'm not an arsehole like you are, Percy. Letting me drink two bits of coffee. I'm still sneezing out squirty cream from that time we've gone together."

"At least it had been memorable, Miss Brown," Percy mumbled and he noticed the look of surprise on her face.

"I've never thought about it that way," Audrey replied, as she sat down at his dining room table. He turned to mix the pancake batter which he made from banana, oats and eggs. He'd tossed a handful of blueberries and raspberries into it. "You are right. It was memorable and that's… a really good thing. Wow. I really never expected anything optimistic to come out of your mouth— _no offence!_ But I like it. Well, that's been my epiphany for the day now. All bad things are memorable. An experience from which I could learn from. I learned that next time, I shouldn't take a bloke that looks like a businessman down to a café to drink coffee right after his brother passed away."

Percy's smile dropped. Audrey blushed and immediately apologised. "I'm sorry. That was out of line. That was—"

"His name was Fred," Percy said, swallowing. He would never the word _Fred_ and _is_ ever again in a sentence and somehow, that realisation was crippling. He felt this whole bleakness overtake him, and his heart clenching.

 _You can use Fred and is in a sentence together,_ Percy realised. _Fred_ is _dead Fred is dead Fred is dead_ kept repeating itself in Percy's head.

"Fred had a twin—George that is. Right, George, is taking a shower in my flat. A _very_ long one," Percy told George that if he dared leave the bathroom before an hour had passed that he would reign hell on him. And he meant it. "It's quite a miraculous feat actually. He hasn't taken a shower in approximately two weeks now. Not since…um, _yes_."

Audrey slowly nodded her head. He could feel her watching him as he made small, thick pancakes.

He gave her a plate, put one for George and sat down just opposite of Audrey. Percy watched George walk in the room, stretching and still looking like he was about to fall on the ground and snooze.

"Percy, are you okay…?" Audrey suddenly blurted out. "Are you…?"

"Oh, I'm fine," Percy replied. "Except for the… small details. You, see, my mother loathes me for changing the wallpaper in our house. I peeled it off and called an exterminator because there was an insect infestation—and they were _living_ in it without a care in the world! I honestly have seen cleaner rubbish bins."

Percy was not sure what he was saying anymore. "My father's thrown me out of the house. Believe me. We have a history. You see, I've disowned my family—yes, _I've_ disowned _them_ for… _um_ , political reasons. He and my brother, Charlie, are drinking their sorrows away and are on high amounts of illegal medication. My other brother, Bill, has turned into a violent maniac. It's why I currently have a giant dressing over the my, _um_ , head wound… and I have another brother, Ron, who I do not want to see. Because if I see him, I think he will actually slaughter me."

Percy noticed the look of horror on Audrey's face, her jaw dropped. She should close that before she caught a few Cornish pixies. But her shock made Percy smile—a _real_ smile.

Meanwhile, George had already managed to stuff his face full of squirty cream, biscuit spread and organic honey.

"How is _your_ current family situation?" Percy asked her. He did not forget about her father's heart attack, or the fact that her mother had become as annoying as a _Daily Prophet_ reporter.

Audrey ran her hand through her hair. "Honestly, let me just say—my current family situation is good because there is no situation. In fact, I've not talked to my family in weeks. Well, then my baby brother came over to hide in my flat until the storm dies down in our house. We've been having loads of fun, bitching about my mother and eating takeaways every night. Our arses are going to get so big that we're going to need a new couch. _But_ I'm still stressed."

"I would be stressed too," Percy said, nodding as he picked up the bottle of honey. "Couch shopping is very hard."

George gaped at Percy. " _That_ was a joke. That's two in a day."

"No, it was not," Percy replied with a stern facial expression, biting down the inside of his cheek so he didn't smile even more. The last thing he wanted was to lose his reputation. Two smiles in one morning? From Percy? He was not even a bloody morning person—or an afternoon or evening person for that manner.

"It was a joke!" George declared, staring at Audrey. "It was a joke, wasn't it?"

Audrey shook her head fervently, smiling. "I don't think so."

"Fred should've given you the joke shop," George said, and Percy was surprised that George could make light of something that had really upset him yesterday. In fact, Percy realise that this was the first time that George had mentioned Fred's name without breaking down in hysterics.

Percy froze in his place, and fell a swell of pride in his chest if only for a moment before he realised that Bill had a murderous streak and the Ministry would investigate his house for illegal potions if he did nothing to stop it.

George must've realised something too because he placed a hand on Percy's momentarily.

Percy looked back at George and just like that moment in the hospital, they didn't say anything. George dropped his hand away and then went off to eating his pancakes like nothing had happened.

But now, Percy could suddenly recognise the emotion in George's big, dark brown eyes.

Percy remembered one lone night at Aunt Muriel's. He was just a child then, and was getting sick and tired of being with Fred and George all the time because they always stole his things. Especially his books. They liked to toss them away so that when Percy got bored enough, he would play gobstones with them.

Little George couldn't sleep because of the noise. He was sure that there was a grating noise between the walls, a detail he would only say when he was many years older. "Percy, I want come up. I not sleep."

"I want _to_ come up," corrected six-year-old Percy, "I _cannot_ sleep."

"You already up," George replied, getting out of the bed where Fred was soundlessly asleep. He pulled his hands out like he wanted Percy, who was taller but shared the same clothes, to swoop down and carry him. "I want come up."

They had to share a bunk bed in Aunt Muriel's and they were staying there for the week. Percy had the top half for himself, and the bottom half was for those drooling infants (Percy was far more reserved thank you very much).

"Come on up then," Percy said, irritated. He looked down at George, who shuffled in his place. "What? What now?"

George shook his head; his big brown eyes were wider than dinner plates. He paced around the room, and did not tell Percy what was wrong. He knocked on the wood a few times, to try and keep Percy awake, because he wanted desperately to come up to stay with Percy until he was too tired to sleep, but wouldn't come up. For a little boy like Percy, this was very irritating because he wanted to go to sleep. It was very late. When his mum found out that they were awake at this time, they would be in _big_ trouble.

"Are you coming up or not?" Percy asked, sending a glare to George. "Are you?"

George walked to the ladder, placing his small, dimpled hands on it. He shook his head.

"Are you scared?" Percy asked, and George just shook his head. "You're scared that you'll fall?" this time, George shook his head even more fervently, which made Percy realise that George really was afraid.

Percy sat up, staring down at George. He would not tell anyone but he was just as lazy as the rest of his brothers.

"I won't tell Fred if you're scared," Percy said seriously. He also knew he would be in big trouble if his parents realised that George climbed the ladder all by himself, or even with Percy helping him. George was very small, and could easily fall and hurt himself. Percy was essentially banned from letting him do this. "Are you feeling very bad because I, Perfect Prissy Percy, could climb the ladder and you can't?"

George vigorously nodded his head.

"I bet you two sickles that you could do it," two sickles could buy them a hot chocolate. Percy only had two sickles and he had been saving them. He found them at the bottom of the couch when he was tearing down the house, looking for his copy of _Tales of the Beetle the Bard_. "Do you want two sickles?"

George nodded his head, and stared at him with even bigger eyes. For a little child, two sickles were a lot of money.

"If you come up here, I will give you two sickles," Percy said. "I promise."

And George couldn't think of doing it for the first fifteen minutes. Percy said his ' _shh's'_ and ' _it's okay's_ as George struggled, crying and sobbing relentlessly because he was terrified of falling and Fred was not there to make fun of him. After a while, he took a deep breath and Percy watched him, this little child that was literally horrified of heights more than anything else in the world, take the first step on the ladder. By the last step, George was afraid to fall over but Percy had his arms out stretched on his bed. He could reach over and pull him up but he wanted George to know he could do it _all by himself_. When Percy was a little kid, Charlie used to pick him up those last few steps and it made him wish that Charlie didn't—so that Percy could grow fearless.

George nearly toppled over but even then, Percy remained calm because he knew George wouldn't fall. He climbed up the very last step, wiggling into Percy's bed and practically sprinted into Percy's arms.

The next day, Percy got into a lot of trouble for letting George climb the ladder because he was so small.

Right now, twenty-two-year-old Percy realised that George was desperate to climb out of the big, black hole he was in by himself but he knew he couldn't because the fear of falling triumphed everything. So, he just stood there and stared up at Percy, hoping that Percy would come down and help him climb up the ladder. But Percy knew he had to let George climb it himself so he could be strong and fearless. Because George didn't have Fred to mock him and make him feel like he _had_ to be able to do it himself so he would—and then surprise himself and pretend he wasn't scared all along but Percy _knew_ that he had been scared. Now, Fred was asleep and it was just Percy and George and that Merlin forsaken ladder that Percy climbed because he did not want to the bloodshed of the war to touch him.

That day, Percy had gone back to the Burrow and George almost immediately retreated upstairs.

Percy had his rucksack on his shoulders because he packed the things he wanted from his flat, including twenty-nine Splenda packets for some reason. He felt like, at some point, George wanted to ask him if they were going to be okay, and Percy was glad that he didn't because he didn't know if they were going to be okay. Percy walked into the Burrow, cleaned up the mess that they'd made since he'd been away. He threw out the cheap takeaway boxes, and then walked upstairs so that that he could talk— _read_ : have a row—with his family.

Percy walked into his parents' bedroom and saw that saddest sight of his mother lying in bed, with her head buried in the pillow as she sobbed her heart out. Percy leaned against her bed, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"Shhh…" Percy whispered to her. "It's alright," he said. He had not realised it then but he was talking to his own mother like he would normally talk to a six-year-old that was crying because her toys had been taken away.

He rubbed circles on his mother's back. The dreadful robes were back, this time red with giant white polka dots.

"Come on… a nice, hot bath will do you good. Do you want me to draw you a bath?" Percy cooed to her. "Mother?"

"Don't talk to me in _that_ condescending manner!" Molly looked up from her bed, tears flowing freely down her face and she threw a pillow over at him, which Percy did admit was uncalled for. "I am not a child. I am your mother."

"Then start acting like one," was what Percy sternly said, placing a hand on his knee and getting up.

Percy walked to her closet and then pulled out his clothes. He didn't want to look at his mother's choice of undergarments but like she was a child, Percy did put all her clothes out for her and stacked them in a neat pile on the dresser. "You're taking that bath, mother. I don't care if I have to force you down and scrub you myself."

"I dare you to, Percival," Molly looked at him with this contempt he didn't even know she could have for him.

Percy raised an eyebrow, and then pulled out his wand to call out a levitation spell. Percy watched his mother be levitated off the bed and then he sent her to the bathroom with her clean clothes following her.

He closed the bathroom door and then stood outside. "Mother, I hope you enjoy your shower."

 _"PERCIVAL, DO YOU REALLY HAVE NO SHAME IN WHAT YOU JUST DID?!"_ Molly yelled out from the bathroom and Percy just leaned against the door, crossing his arms over his chest. He half-expected Bill to show up and punch him in the face. It didn't happen. It was very surprising. _"I AM YOUR BLOODY MOTHER! HOW DARE YOU DO THIS TO ME? DO I LOOK LIKE A CHILD TO YOU? DO I LOOK LIKE ONE?!"_

Percy just sighed deeply. "Mother, if I don't hear you running the water in there, I swear to Merlin I will do it myself."

He leaned down and stuck his wand underneath the bathroom door.

 _"OH PLEASE, PERCIVAL! YOU WOULDN'T—"_ Molly let out a scream as Percy called out a few cleaning charms of his own. Very advanced cleaning charms that probably were cleaning his mother down not unlike a muggle car. _"OH, WHEN I AM GETTING OUT OF HERE, YOU'RE GOING TO REALLY GET IT THIS TIME!"_

"Wait in line, mother," Percy said, crossing his arms over his chest. "I—"

Percy rubbed his jaw when he'd been punched in the face. Oh, so there was Bill. No… _Ron_.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Ron hissed towards him. "Why is mum screaming? For a bloke that's all about decency and bollocks, you sure are contradicting everything you stand for… how _DARE_ you bloody do this!"

Percy placed a hand on his jaw and then kept his gaze at the ground. He wanted to talk back at Ron for disrespecting him like this but he kept his mouth shut and allowed Ron to just walk all over him. Percy was done defending himself. It wasn't like anyone ever listened to anyway. And why bother? He'd be dead in a year.

"Mother was refusing to take a shower," Percy said, rather than wanting to explode and tell Ron to stuff himself because he shouldn't have to force his mother out of bed to take a shower! What kind of son had to endure that? How did Molly let herself get to that state? He loved his mother, but this was beyond everything.

Ron looked like he was about to blow his top. "So you _forced her_ into it? Merlin, Perce, you've got more mental problems than I bloody thought if you're going to force your own mother to do something she doesn't want to do."

Percy couldn't take it. He would hate himself for lashing out but he didn't care. "Well, maybe _I_ _SHOULDN'T_ be in the _PREDICAMENT_ where my mother is refusing to take a shower _IN THE FIRST BLOODY PLACE!_ And yes, I will force her to take a shower if she refuses to take one. If my mother is going to act like a child, I will treat her like one until she decides to act like my blood mother." And he meant it too.

He moved when he felt Molly swing the door open, and bolt out of the door. She pushed Percy aside.

Percy was shocked. His mother _pushed him_. Like he was a senseless, meaningless object to her!

He placed his hands into his pocket. Percy could not believe that his mother even allowed him to look through her closet to pick out clothes that he wanted her to wear. He was stood there, genuinely gobsmacked at how fast this family was unravelling right in front of him. Percy was about to say something but Ron shoved him inside the bathroom, where Percy nearly tripped but managed to hold onto to the tub. Ron locked the door and Percy spent the time knocking on the door and trying to find out what order of charms would unlock the door.

 _This wasn't the bloody war!_ Nobody needed these many charms on the _BATHROOM_ door! Especially in the house where the bloody front door was _UNLOCKED_.

By the second hour, he had given up and spent his time sat on a towel on the bathroom floor. Ridiculous.

By the third hour, someone finally opened the bathroom door. Ginny dropped her towel and haircare products all on the ground and stared at him with a look of shock on her face. "They _LOCKED YOU_ in the _BATHROOM?_ "

Percy sternly nodded his head, elbows digging into his knees. "Yes. I dared to force our mother to take a shower."

He felt like he was being pushed around in school all over again. Being locked in the bathroom. A bunch of mischievous first or second years thought to do this to him on a dare because he was _the_ prefect to mess with—his brothers surely had given him that title. Percy couldn't attempt to assert any shred of authority what with his brothers treating him like he was rubbish.

Ginny helped him up, placed a hand to his side to steady him over the slippery floor and guided him outside.

"Oi! Perce!" Charlie called out, as he walked towards them with a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. He looked rather cheery for someone who recently just had a death in the family. Hmm. The copious number of numbing potions and excessive amount of liquor had nothing to do with that though. "Merlin, where's the rest of you? Could've sworn there was more of you last time I saw you. On a new diet with emphasis on the _die_ part?"

Ginny stood by the doorway, a serious look on her face. "What?" She looked back at Percy, analysing him.

"What are you—?" Percy was suddenly overtaken when Ginny suddenly hugged him.

It was not very affectionate and he realised soon enough that she didn't hug him because she missed him. She wanted to quantify how much weight he'd lost because she was practically digging her hand into his spine. Wonderful.

 _"PERCY!"_ Ginny screeched, pushing him into the doorframe. How loving _. "WHAT THE HELL?!"_

Percy blushed deeply. "It was not intentional!" he blurted out. "I… I forgot to eat!"

"You've forgotten to eat _every day_ since Fred died?" Ginny raised an eyebrow at him, but he seriously nodded his head. "Percy, you can't be serious but I know you must be serious. I knew you lost weight but I just didn't know how much! During exams, when you've lost weight, you wear your biggest cloaks to hide it. I can't believe I've not noticed you've been doing the same since Fred's passed away! It worked well enough, Perce. You fooled me. Standing there with your oversized shirt, covering yourself with layers, so nobody could tell your ribs could poke an eye or your arms make broomsticks look like tree trunks? Percy, there's literally _nothing_ of you... and I can't believe that _Charlie_ , the bloke that's hooked up on enough pain potion to run an apothecary, was the voice of reason for once!"

She shook her head in disbelief. "Are you _TRYING TO KILL YOURSELF?!_ "

Percy looked down. "I had breakfast," he said, as if that was supposed to remedy this situation.

In fact, he was extremely bloated because he ate way more in the past twenty-four hours as he had last two weeks and his body didn't know what to do with the salt-retaining Chinese or the large volume of bananas he had right after he finished his pancakes. Seriously, who ate five bananas in one sitting as a _post-breakfast_ _snack?_ Deplorable. Percy did not want to share this information with Ginny because he believed she'd slaughter him.

Charlie immediately went over to hug him tightly, and Percy squirmed uncomfortably. His spine might've shattered.

"I've missed you so much, you bloody bastard," said Charlie, burying his head into Percy's shoulder. Charlie got on his tip-toes so that he would be able to be on the same eye-level as Percy, who was taller than him by a few inches. "You smell good. Like… like _soap_." Percy warily patted Charlie's back, as Charlie continued to squeeze him. At this rate, his spleen and liver would be stitched together forever.

"Charlie, that's enough," Percy tried to wiggle out of the hold. _"Charlie."_

Ginny helped pull him out of Charlie's iron-clad grip. Percy rubbed his side, feeling like his chest was on fire but at least, he knew that like Ginny, Charlie wasn't seemingly looking to murder him. At least not intentionally. The oaf was on so many potions he probably forgot about the fact that he had the figure of Oliver Wood on steroidal potions.

"Come on, you need a sobering potion," Percy gestured for Charlie to follow him.

Charlie looked scared, like a little child, and he just shook his head. Percy grabbed his hand.

"Charlie," Percy gave him a pointed look. "Come on," he walked to his room and Charlie shuffled after him.

Percy very rarely had the ingredients to make any potion. However, the sobering potion only took three common, cheap ingredients. There was the fact Charlie was consistently either too drunk or too high _or too whatever it was he was_. Also, they took an excruciatingly long time to go bad. So, Percy already had already a few phials sealed away. He could easily make more before he went to sleep. It would take about as much time as brushing his teeth would and yawning into his mirror, cursing the universe for existing.

Percy felt very odd walking into his own room. He hadn't been here in ages. He opened a drawer, and picked up a shimmering blue phial. He sat down beside Charlie, and then offered it to him.

He wouldn't lie—he felt monumentally bad giving Charlie a potion when he could tell that he was in pain.

Charlie gulped it down quickly and Percy shifted uncomfortably. He sat there for some time, his hands on his knees, as he rocked back and forth from boredom. He waited for Charlie to say something, but it looked like all his big brother was interested in doing was staring at the wall, looking like he was trying not to cry.

Percy sighed. He gave up. Fine. He was doing _it_.

Despite the fact that Charlie just did it three minutes ago and he surely didn't deserve one. But this was the last time _ever_. He didn't… _hug_ people. But seeing as how Charlie's world was crashing down around him and their little brother was dead, Percy felt obliged to. But he was not doing it again even if Charlie was threatening to rip out his colon.

He slowly moved and wrapped his arms around Charlie, who suddenly just crumbled and sobbed hysterically.

"It's okay," Percy said in a whisper. "It's alright, Charlie. It's okay… Charlie?"

Charlie shook his head. He couldn't even talk because he was so hysterical.

Honestly, Percy had never even seen his brother like this in his whole entire life. Charlie was always happy. Now, he was trying to maintain his composure as much as he could but he just dissolved into nothing.

Percy just sat there, holding him and Charlie sobbed until he practically fell asleep.

Now, the best part of this was attempting to pull Charlie into his bed, tuck him under his duvet and take off his shoes without waking up Charlie—he who, without the use of any substance, woke up just at the flutter of a Flitterby.

Percy mentally clapped himself when he managed to do this without waking Charlie up.

He walked downstairs and saw Ginny sat on the couch. She put down her chocolate frog cards (Percy hadn't seen any of those in ages. It bought some nostalgia in him) and then looked up at him. "Is Charlie alright?"

"He sobbed so hard that he's given me tinnitus," Percy mumbled. "But he's knocked himself out with all the crying."

Ginny nodded her head. "He looks like he's on your side too. So far, it's just been me. Now," she stood up and then in a whisper, like she was saying some sort of secret, " _George took a shower today… and he was singing_. Okay, then he dissolved into tears and couldn't stop sobbing for the hour but that's real progress."

"There are no sides," Percy said, and then crossed his arms over his chest. "Are you keeping tally of this?"

"No," Ginny said, shaking her head. "I'm betting on this. Hermione disapproves of it, but Harry says he'll pay you fifty Galleons if you manage to get Ron's head out of his arse."

"Trying to get Ron's head out of his arse?" Percy repeated. "So, that's fifty Galleons for _my tombstone?_ "

He rolled his eyes. Percy knew he _had_ to arrange Fred's funeral, but Percy will come back as a ghost to slaughter his family if they decided to throw his body in the backyard because they couldn't be bothered to arrange him a funeral.


	5. Chapter 5

**i typically reread chapters before i submit them. i did for this one a few times, but i didn't give the final read-over on 's document editing. i hope that there aren't too many mistakes. i tried to re-read it, but i really just couldn't! i've reread this particular chapter so many times because i had changed around a LOT. i hope you're nice enough to ignore any spelling errors/mistakes. English is not my first language as i said before.**

 **comment replies:**

 **Myra109 : thank you so much! i want to cry... of frustration! i'm so stuck at the chapter i'm currently writing.**

 **K.J. Bollinger : you flatter me. :) **

**Phoenixx Rising : you'll /love/ Molly this chapter. and by love, i mean you'll absolutely hate her. writing Molly is so difficult in this fanfiction because their first appearance, i think, tells you a lot! this chapter is crazy. i was writing this and i had to do a double-take, going _"do i really want to go down this path?"_ and part of me is like _"you already warned for self-harm and craziness! go for it!"_**

 **malfoyravenclaw555 : thank you, dear. always a pleasure to write! **

* * *

**Love and Old Black Shoes**

Chapter Five

* * *

It was currently four-twenty-five in the morning and Percy had not gone to bed yet. This was probably not optimal. Even _less_ optimal was the fact that he was in the kitchen, making himself a strong cup of coffee.

He heard a voice at the door. He looked up and notice how Charlie was standing there, blanket over his tank top, exposing his bulging bicep. His shoulders were slumped. Charlie looked eerily _small_.

"Did you, _um_ … take _any_ illegal substances in the last hour?" Percy asked, even though Charlie just woke up.

Charlie dissolved into his own vulnerability, and his eyes were shining with pain. "I'm sorry, Perce."

He shook his head. "It feels like everyone is overreacting," Charlie's voice was wobblier. "Like… we shouldn't be effected this much by Fred's death that our whole world is just falling apart? Like we should be strong for _George_ for Merlin's sake. _He's_ the one that lost his twin after all. Or mum… she always just—But I just…"

Charlie shook his head. "I'm just… _I'm sorry_ ," he sounded out, his voice watery. "I'm not even really here anymore. I'm barely a part of this family but-but… Merlin, I'm so sorry."

"I would absolutely love to say that you have nothing to apologise for, but in fact, you _DO_. Charles, this is ridiculous! You have broken the law on multiple occasions, and you could possibly get sent to years of Azkaban on accounts of this deplorable felony!" Percy watched Charlie flinch. "You were always unhinged, especially when it came to illegal substances. Now, you've even managed to get _OUR FATHER_ to do it too! This is _UNACCEPTABLE!_ "

Percy unbuttoned his top button of his button-down, realising how suffocating it was being in this dark, damp room was. "However, I will get you a sobering agent, and then we can discuss—"

Charlie placed a hand on Percy's wrist, shaking his head. " _No_ , Percy." He said sternly.

"I am not just standing here whilst you—" Percy gasped out when he felt Charlie's grip around him tighten.

Charlie shook his head then softly repeated, "…No."

"No sobering agent you mean? So I'll let you run around the house smelling of illegal substances and enough alcohol to kill a dragon?" Percy's face remained indifferent. " _FINE_. If you will not listen to me, then I will be forced to put both your father and yourself in a _PARTICULAR_ facility aimed to deal with the likes of _POTIONS ADDICTS_ like yourselves," he could see Charlie cringing and a flash of pain form in his doe-like, dark brown eyes.

"I will tolerate a lot of things in this house, Charles, but I _REFUSE_ to tolerate this," Percy stated plainly.

"Your head is hurt, Percy," Charlie said, shaking his head, his lip quivering. "You're not thinking clearly—"

 _Your head is hurt_ , Percy repeated in his head. That did not sound like proper English.

" _I'M_ not thinking clearly?" Percy scoffed coldly. "It is either you stop using these substances, or I will make sure that either the Ministry know that you've been smuggling _cheap Romanian pain potions_ —which is an offence that equates to _at least_ fifteen years in Azkaban because of the great Romanian Romo Romeo Elixir controversy of 1963. Or I could make an appointment with St Mungo's rehabilitation facility down in Sheffield and let them know how utterly displeased I am with the behaviours of my wonderful big brother and unhinged father."

"Don't send Dad to Azkaban," Charlie had tears streaming down his puffy, red eyes. Percy hadn't noticed how red Charlie's eyes were, but he did notice that he hadn't said anything about _him_ going to Azkaban. "It's my fault. I'll…"

Percy's lip remained sewed in a tight line. "It _IS_ your fault." He was not lying to make Charlie feel better.

Charlie swallowed the lump in his throat. "I'll get rid of them, okay?" he said hastily. "I'll get rid of them."

"No, _I_ will," Percy's statement made Charlie flinch. "And I will _still_ owl that facility."

Charlie shook his head, horrified. "Percy, our father can't—he'll—he'll be so angry and sad—and… lose his job..."

"I am _NOT_ breaking the law! _ESPECIALLY NOT WHEN IT ENDANGERS THE REST OF THIS FAMILY!"_ Percy yelled. "What _JOB?!_ How long has it been since either of you have even set foot anywhere _OUTSIDE?_ Beyond Bill apparently overworking himself to death, and Ron and Ginny going to Merlin knows where—who in this house is avidly making an effort to do _ANYTHING_ might I ask?"

 _"THIS ISN'T FAIR, OKAY? IT ISN'T FAIR!"_ Charlie flinched again, and this time, sunk into his chair. "We've only been using it for a few weeks. We don't deserve to be thrown in Azkaban or-or some facility! Have a heart!"

"I do _not_ trust _addicts_ , and I certainly will not let you cajole me into thinking that _YOU_ have this situation under control when you refuse to stay sober for longer than five minutes!" Percy plainly said. Bill had only had those scars for a little while, but now, he was completely different person. And Percy was afraid that once he stripped past that anger, he'd see something just as broken and unfixable as Charlie seemed like right now. "Take the sobering agent, and then maybe we can discuss this more thoroughly. If _you_ are not willing to do that then—"

"Shut up," Charlie hissed. "Shut the fuck up, Percy. Nobody wants to listen to you. Nobody even liked you— _ever_." His eyes were red, and he looked close to tears. He was shaking like a flobberworm that was about to be killed.

Percy closed his eyes. "I'm sorry that you refuse to ask for help, Charles, but _I_ will not watch you drown and allow it to happen just because you insist that you are an excellent swimmer."

"Sorry? You're _not_ sorry," Charlie said in a weak voice. "If you were sorry, you'd get that stick out of your arse."

Percy looked back at Charlie, feeling his heart ache into his chest.

Charlie just stared vacantly at the walls, and Percy drank his coffee, pretending that he did not have to deal with his father realising what he was exactly doing. Charlie was the more reasonable of the two, and now, he looked like he hated Percy with the contempt that one would typically reserve for a white-haired scoundrel.

At around five-forty-two, Percy found it in him to visit the Ministry for the first time since the war had ended.

It was more hectic than he'd ever remembered, but at the same time, so quiet he felt like he could hear a pin drop echo through the seemingly endless hallways.

Percy walked towards the near seating area after he picked up the documents that he required, and read.

After he read sufficient enough information (i.e. he'd read every single document that even hinted at or mentioned the subject), he went onto fill the appropriate documentation.

Writing all this down made him feel _less_ like a colossal failure, like he could _at least_ still recite all the rules and regulation in the Ministry by alphabetical order if anyone ever asked him to. Not that anyone that was anyone would ask him to do such a thing because it was unnecessary.

Percy took the documents into his arms with shaky hands and walked down to—

"Percy!" he heard a familiar, warm voice behind him, and turned around to see… the Minister of Magic?

"Kings— _MR MINISTER!"_ Percy suddenly realised he'd nearly called the Minister by his first name and nearly dropped the rolls of potion abuse parchments on the ground. He'd spent the last five minutes reading about extended stays in St Mungo's rehabilitation centre and their controversial horklump massage therapy. "I'm… I… _err_ …"

"It's always nice seeing a Weasley," Kingsley was nice. He didn't even mention that he thought Percy should choke on his own vomit for even leaving his family in the first place. It was really a very nice thing to do. He then peered over at abundance of scrolls in Percy's hands. "Applying for a job? Or… well, _thirty?_ "

"Unfortunately, no," Percy wished he could get away from this all. "I'm… I'm just… I'm… unlocked door—uncomfortable underpants— _Charlie_ and my father—Romanian Romo Romeo Elixir—… _1963!_ "

The Minister laughed like Percy was joking around before he went to pick up the scrolls that had fallen.

Percy immediately dropped to the ground like a coward trying to hide from a colourful hex and then scooped up as many scrolls as he could but not before Kingsley took one. He saw Kingsley open the scroll and read it with a most serious expression on his face. Percy was shaking violently, like he'd just eaten a packet of expired Ice Mice.

"It isn't for me," Percy said almost immediately. "It's for… _um_ … that's irrelevant—oh! I'm sorry, Mr Minister. I don't mean to say that it's irrelevant because… _you're_ the one that gets to decide the relevancy of… _things!_ "

Kingsley probably had a thousand and one things to do, so Percy didn't know whether to be horrified or relieved when he told Percy, "Come up to the office with me. I think an extended chat is due."

Percy practically sprinted behind Kingsley.

People were glaring at him. He'd also been called a blood-sucking traitor. It was nice to know that the Ministry had missed him greatly in his absence.

He was very uneasy sitting in the Minister's office, especially when Percy noticed his old desk had disappeared.

Percy sat down on the chair only when instructed to do so, and did not decline Kingsley's offer of Cornish cream tea and scones with jam and clotted cream. Even though he did not _want_ to drink any of _the Minister's_ tea. He'd never even eaten a scone in his life but he thought it was alright. He much preferred his cheap toast with his cheaper brand jam with a bucket of margarine instead. He didn't say anything until the Minister spoke.

"I know an excellent programme that I could refer Charlie to," Kingsley obviously had met Charlie before if he was suggested a prolonged and intensive programme for him. Charlie did have a somewhat controlled substance abuse problem even before the war. Being in Romania probably did not help this. Percy watched Kingsley rummage through his desk and produced a light purple pamphlet to shove to Percy. "It's strategically located in Romania as well and I have a few Aurors down there from the old days that could keep an eye on him."

Percy was swirling his spoon around the tea. "Mr Minister, I…" he pressed his lips together. "My father too."

He noticed the look of surprise on Kingsley's face, followed by a sympathetic look. Percy couldn't say he felt that way. He didn't feel sorry for his father. He felt angry, and entirely unsympathetic.

How _dare_ a man resort to this in his own house? His family had fallen so far apart…

"I'm very sorry about what happened to Fred," Kingsley was rummaging again through his cupboards. Percy thought for another document before he produced a giant biscuit tin and gestured for Percy to take some. He took a custard cream to be polite, and ate one very slowly. "Do either Arthur and Charlie want help for their— _um_ …?"

Whilst Percy was tired of hearing 'I'm sorry about Fred', it sounded so _genuine_ coming from Kingsley.

"Addiction," Percy curtly said as he took a sip of his tea. "Charlie does not intend on staying sober for longer than thirty seconds, but however, as for my father… I… I have not really interacted with him per say on the issue. He did, however, say some colourful things to me yesterday during our reunion. I have enough information to let me know that if I _did_ try to interact with him on the manner, I would most definitely regret it."

Percy was starting to feel sick as he drank the tea, and he wasn't sure why.

"You must think that I am biased given my father and I's distressed relationship," Percy knew that Kingsley was one of Arthur's friends and not _his_. Well, Percy didn't have any friends whatsoever but that was beside the point. Kingsley was only talking to him out of a nicety extended towards the fact that Percy's father was Kingsley's friend and now an important man to the Ministry. "You are right. I am extremely biased."

Kingsley shook his head. "I think that the situation is different when you're talking about contemplating putting _your own father_ in treatment. You certainly wouldn't be able to force him… given that well, he's obviously your father and not the other way around. There are certain protocols and rules for this."

"I'm willing to break them," Percy said almost immediately, realising that he just said that to _THE MINISTER_.

Kingsley was surprised and Percy just stood up almost immediately, sure that there was still jam smeared at the edge of his mouth. "I'll be seeing you later, Mr Minister," Percy said, grabbing his scrolls into his arms.

He looked at Percy with a stern facial expression. "Percy," he did not sound very happy as he stood up and placed a hand on Percy's arm, "Are you going to file in the legal documentation required for the Ministry to—"

"—consider my parents as _mentally unhinged?"_ Percy finished off. He normally did not cut off the Minister mid-sentence, but Kingsley was irritating him. "I don't think you want to know the answer to that, Mr Minister."

"Percy," Kingsley looked unhappy. "I think you should think rationally about this."

Percy did something that he didn't think he could possibly do. He snapped at the Minister.

"I think that if I leave the future of the Burrow in the hands of my parents, we'd be buried amongst an insect infestation—but not before criminals managed to steal our ancient, priced possessions and sell them off the market," Percy shook his head, gulping the lump in his throat. "I had to _PICK OUT MY MOTHER'S CLOTHES_ yesterday because she couldn't be bothered to and practically _FORCE_ her to shower using an advanced number of cleaning spells! _I… AM… THINKING ABOUT THIS RATIONALLY!_ "

He gulped when he noticed who he was speaking to, "…Mr Minister."

"Percy, I want you to leave my office," Kingsley did not seem to appreciate Percy's outburst. "And I'll let you know that I will make sure that any plea you put against Arthur and Molly will be rejected."

Percy's lips were quivering. "Mr Minister, I hope you don't take this to offence but I hope you go fuck yourself."

Well, that meeting went well. Percy just shook his head, biting the inside of his cheek because he noticed he was shaking as he walked outside, still holding mountains of scrolls in his arms.

He sat down at the edge of somewhere that was a _nowhere_ in the Ministry (abandoned with rumours of distressing

deaths that occurred spontaneously for no reason) and cried. And when he was done crying, he cried some more.

His family had now turned into an all-out warzone and Percy was no Harry Potter.

Percy walked towards the bathrooms nearby, noticing how empty and secluded they were. He put the scrolls down, staring at the broken mirrors. He reached over to grab a jagged piece of a mirror broken centuries ago, rolled up his sleeve and decided that he could end it here right now if he wanted to.

He was too weak. He couldn't fix this family. He could barely survive the day without being assaulted by graphic images of how violently he wanted to kill himself. Percy just couldn't take it anymore.

Even the thought of waiting another minute longer was excruciating.

Somehow, he managed to get home in one piece intact. He even managed to get to his room without proclaiming bloody murder. He was in the worst mood he had ever been and he hadn't been at home for more than a second before Arthur stared at him with a look that could kill a Lestrange.

"Didn't I tell you to get out of this house?" Arthur said, prodding Percy out the door. "You are _NOT_ welcome here and you surely are not _MY_ son or part of _THIS_ family. Do you understand? Get out. Get out… _GET OUT!"_

"Dad, don't do that!" Ginny said, running over to Percy and practically catapulting herself to him.

"Ginny," Percy was flushing but he was wrapping his arms around her. He surely did not want her to get hurt.

"Yeah, dad, stop that!" George had apparently joined in on the party and was grabbing Percy, holding him down. Percy was somehow glad that George had all those… _chest_ muscles. "That stick up Percy's arse is sensitive."

Percy managed to slick away from all three of them, and then end up towards the stairs.

"I will pack my things," he said, and George and Ginny looked at him with a mixture of shock and dismay.

"Come on, Perce," George ran up to join him on the stairs. "You don't have to listen to dad."

Ginny nodded her head, as she joined them too. " _We_ need _you_."

"What about what _I_ need?" Percy snapped, and he didn't mean to snap at them.

Ginny and George seemed surprised, like they had just realised he had his own emotions.

Percy just kept walking to his room. Instead of packing, he just collapsed at the corner, staring at his childhood room that had about as much personality as a wet tissue box. Percy's eyes were blurring with tears, as he shook with rage.

Percy grabbed his wand, and hissed out an _"Incendio"_ and cast the spell on his arm.

He didn't scream. In fact, Percy did not even bother _locking the door_.

In seconds, his whole right arm was on fire and the pain was the most unbearable feeling he had felt in his whole entire life. He had only been able to stand it for around all of twenty-six seconds before he called out a spell to extinguish the fire. If his fifteen-year-old self could see him now, he'd be appalled. In fact, he'd probably owl St Mungo's to take him into the psychiatric division until further notice.

Percy now had a seeping, severely burned arm and he let himself smile with a smug satisfaction. There were hot tears running down his eyes. He grabbed his sharpest quill, dragging the metal edge deep into his tortured arm.

The fact that nobody had walked in on him was both satisfying _and_ terrifying. If he smelled smoke coming from someone's room, he would care enough to walk in but Percy was alone. Free to hurt his body as he pleased.

He shook his head. He didn't want to do this anymore. Percy just…

He couldn't stay the night even if he tried. After making sure his arm was adequately mangled, Percy packed his things, wore a loose dark button-down and old baggy pants, and then stormed out of the house. He could barely keep his tears from streaming down. His mind was spinning with all the things that he was going to do when he got to the flat. Putting his face in acid. Smash his knees and then walk ten kilometres. Snap his own spine and paralyse himself. Slash his wrists, and then write disturbing messages in his own blood about how much he hated himself…

He didn't do any of those things when he'd gotten to his flat—that felt more like a home than the Burrow did right then. Percy just threw himself on the bed and he cried some more. It didn't solve anything.

It was then that it had dawned on him that he had _willingly tried to sear his arm off_. And he was in an unlocked room when this happened and yet nobody came to even bother checking up on him even though he had been visibly upset.

Percy was shocked by how eerily calm he was towards the fact that his arms were now charred. Almost like Charlie was when he kept getting burned by dragons. Oh, and then there was the slick lines of blood dripping from his contact with the sharp tips of his favourite quill. Percy bit down his lower lip. His arm was burning. He was in so much _pain_. But the physical pain was the only helping distract him from the thoughts racing inside his head, thumping against his skull… he just wanted them to escape. To get away. He could do it _now_. End his life. Finish. Gone. There would be no dealing with Charlie or Arthur or anyone else, and they didn't have to tell him they hated his navy-blue wallpaper. He practically _had_ to die, given the fact that he just burned his arm off. How was he going to explain this?

 _Oh, I just decided to Incendio my arm off to distract myself from the feelings of wanting to snuff it in right in the Ministry toilets?_

He managed to talk himself out of killing himself before he reunited his family together. How wonderful.

Before passing out, Percy wrapped his arms in a full-on bandage after applying a muggle antiseptic. The muggle antiseptic—Percy did not expect—was so painful on the wound that he nearly wanted to tear off his limb from the unbearable pain that he was in. He was seeing shiny yellow stars from Dumbledore's favourite purple robes.

For the next three days, Percy barely moved from his bed. He drank a small ice-cold bottle of water, and ate a mouthful of sugar when he felt like he was about to pass out. It did not help because he passed out anyway. Then he drank more water because his limbs felt like they weighed a thousand stones each and he couldn't possibly take a shower, much less make himself do anything but sleep. And Percy slept all the time.

By the fourth day, Percy finally forced himself to take a shower.

He walked out and then before putting on his pants, he grabbed his wand and then severed off a few inches and tied them together with a quick sewing spell. Percy knew that he had probably lost more weight. It was impossible to maintain even his current size by not eating for three days straight.

His arm was killing him. He could barely move his wand. Why did he choose his _right_ arm to do this to?

Percy then heard the door ring and wondered if Audrey was wondering if he was dead or not since he hadn't left his room. He had been, however, falling asleep and feeling wonderful when he heard her Vitamix, _err_ , blend.

He threw on the biggest size sweater he had, as he peered into the doorway to see who was there.

Percy couldn't contain his shock when he saw it was his mother standing outside, the maternity robes that used to barely fit here suddenly loose—which was alarming because just a week ago, they were _tight_.

Whilst Percy had no appetite at all when he was upset, the same could not be said for most members of his family. He recalled Ginny staring at him like he was a phantom when he refused to eat during their exam period whilst the rest of them scoffed enough cashews, peanuts and pistachios to make Susan Bones go into anaphylactic shock. So, seeing his mother like this made him wonder if she and him shared similar dietary regimens.

Percy rubbed his neck as she stood there, shuffling her feet at the doorway.

"George told me where you lived," Molly said in a soft voice. She laughed a little bit even, and stared at him. She frowned, and Percy wondered if it was because either a part of his mutilated arm was showing through, or the fact that she probably noticed he now didn't have any cheeks so to speak. "Can I…?"

Percy immediately moved away so that his mother could walk in.

Molly walked into the little kitchen counter and put the kettle on. Percy felt strange watching someone else make tea in his own house but it was _his mother_. She made them two mugs of tea, with sugar and the little can of cream that Percy had in his fridge. "Are there any biscuits?" she suddenly asked.

Percy frowned and then left his flat to knock over at Audrey's door and ask for biscuits.

She opened the door and looked surprised to see him. "Percy?" Audrey had obviously forgotten he continued to exist. She was wearing her bathrobes, and her highlighted hair was wet. "God, you look peaked."

"Thank you," Percy didn't bother with the niceties. "Can I trouble you for some biscuits—that is, if you have any?"

"Biscuits?" Audrey squeaked out in a low tone before she nodded her head. She disappeared and came back with an unopened tin of biscuits and Percy blushed deeply because he could obviously tell that they were new and he could still see the price printed on top of the overpriced discs of egg, flour and sugar. "Here. Take these. Eat the whole tin, and come back and ask for more. _Really_ , Percy," she gestured towards his body, and he just flushed deeply.

Percy sighed deeply. "I will not eat a whole tin of biscuits!" he yelled out. "These are for my mother."

"Well then, _GIVE THEM BACK!_ " Audrey grabbed the tin from him and pulled it to herself.

Percy was so surprised he forgot to release his grip on the biscuits, so he immediately crashed into Audrey.

They tumbled down into the ground, and the tin was tossed to the side. Audrey moved up, and their bodies were glued together, their lips were only centimetres apart from each other. His hands were awkwardly pressed against her arms, and she leaned forward almost as if she was going to kiss him. Percy reeled backwards, landing on the ground and smacking the spot in his head where he had his head injury previously.

 _"OW!"_ Percy yelled, rubbing his head wound. His head was pounding.

Audrey got up, and grabbed her tin. She pulled him up and shoved the tin back to him. "I hope your mother—"

"Percy?" Molly poked her head out the door. "The tea is getting cold."

"Why didn't you invite _me_ for tea and biccies?" Audrey suddenly asked, and Percy felt like women were confusing. He didn't know what Audrey wanted. One minute she was about to snog him and the other minute, she was angry at him for not inviting her over for a cup of tea. "Oh. Is this about Fred?" she said in a low voice.

She turned to Molly and then said, _"I'M SORRY ABOUT FRED!"_ she yelled.

Audrey then turned to Percy, ignoring Molly's existence. "Next time, you're having biscuits with me," she told him, and then squealed in glee because she seemed to remember something. " _ACTUALLY!_ _I PULVERISE CUSTARD CREAMS INTO THIS PASTE! IT'S DELICIOUS! YOU CAN PUT IT ON BREAD!"_

Percy's head was pounding. Pulverising custard creams. Muggles tortured biscuits for fun.

He blushed deeply when she waved at his mother. He ran back to his mother before she talked about pulverising another British confection. Molly was eying her warily before she stared at Percy as if she didn't recognise him.

"That's a nice friend you have," Molly said, but she didn't sound like she liked Audrey.

Percy immediately felt extremely defensive of his friend. Molly didn't even know anything about Audrey… and Percy knew when his mother was gauging someone. He knew how it looked like when Molly didn't approve of someone.

"You _took_ that girl's biscuits?" Molly asked, looking at him accusingly.

Percy just looked down at the box. "She is— _err_ , almost my flatmate," that excuse sounded awful even to him, but really, why was he so relaxed about going over to a _MUGGLE_ woman's flat and then asking her for _BISCUITS?_

Not just any bloody biscuits! _OVERPRICED_ _BISCUITS WITH CREAM AND FONDANT AND REAL COCOA._

Not the dodgy stodge that he used to get when he went down to muggle London with Charlie and Bill as a child and he ate a chocolate covered biscuit that tasted like wax with a hint of chocolate that had gone rancid.

Well, it wasn't that bad, right? Percy told himself. Apparently, he'd seen in films and read in books that muggle did ask their neighbours for sugar, butter and flour to bake desserts. Of course, Percy just went straight for the finished product rather than individual ingredients. That was alright, he supposed…? And he'd seen neighbours gave other neighbours biscuits before—granted it was the holidays and they were in the blitz of the summertime. Also, there was the fact that Audrey did not make these from scratch… and Percy deliberately _ASKED_ for them. He couldn't imagine him walking to other flats and knocking on their door, asking them for Jammie Dodgers _OR ELSE_.

Percy watched his mother retreat to his living room and he followed. He felt unhappy that his mother was invading his safe space. This was _HIS FLAT_. This was where he escaped the horrors of the Burrow and its peeling wallpapers and treacherous tattered teabag towers.

Why did Molly even bother? It wasn't like his mother _cared_ anymore. Audrey looked like she cared more if Percy would suddenly just disappear from self-destruction and an accidental self-imposed starvation. There was a time where he thought it was impossible that one just _forgot_ to eat a meal—much less forgot to eat for _DAYS_.

Honestly, Percy had been too nauseous or uncomfortable to even consider eating. And he had no mother to prod her wooden spoon at him, asking him what he ate for breakfast like he had before.

The first few days after Fred's death felt like a blur. He didn't feel like days had passed since he'd eaten, more like hours that had congealed themselves into a limitless stretch of time. Then the unsettling anxiety that could've made him throw up filled his heart, there were stars that were sour and rotten leaves sat on his lap that he had to be rid of. The world was an endless, bleak stream of _nothing_. Time ceased to exist. Food and showering and changing clothes felt like something he had to delay until he could sleep off the thick coat of exhaustion that weighed him down no matter what he did. Every hour felt like it had just been a singular hour since Fred's death had happened. He could still feel Fred's cold body into his arms, collided by waves of nausea and numbness. He felt like he'd been thrown into a cold lake. He couldn't see. He could barely feel.

Percy watched her walk into his flat, and he just folded in on himself, standing at the door. He made himself as small as compact as possible, even when standing, his head buried into the box. "Why are you here?" his voice was soft.

"I am your mother," Molly replied to him, stiffly, as if he said something stupid.

Percy just stared at her. "Not for the last few weeks you've not been," he said bitterly.

He did not want her to stand there, ignoring how he felt like in his own home. This fight felt _stupid_. At least it didn't feel as important as the fact that _he just wanted to die_. Why did everyone assume that he was as held together as he appeared when inside, he felt like he was about to just fade away any second?

His family had even bothered to ask him if _he_ was alright and how _he_ was dealing with Fred's death. Instead, he heard cacophony about how he deserved to have his head sliced to bits, and how dare he have the _audacity_ to be alright when the rest of the family was just one step away from being shoved into a psychiatric facility.

Molly shakily pulled her cup of tea to herself and drank it slowly. Percy sat down opposite to her, taking a sip of tea. He opened the box of biscuits. All the biscuits were still intact despite the fact that Audrey probably dropped them more than Oliver Wood did a jar of aconite—perhaps _that_ was why they cost a shoe and a dragon's claw. Percy didn't dare look at his mother as he stared at the collection of posh biscuits – looked to Percy like a bunch of chocolate-covered digestives and baby hobnobs with a coating.

"Kingsley told me about what you trying to-trying to…" Molly was stuttering. "Labelling me as _mentally unhinged!_ "

Percy just stared at his feet. "Well, mother, how else am I going to throw my father into a facility where he and Charlie belong until they absolve themselves of their potion abusing...ness!"

"Don't you dare even _consider_ it!" Molly yelled. "They are not addicts! They are going through a tough time!"

Percy cocked his head to one side. _What about me?_ I'm _going through a tough time. In exactly a year since the battle of Hogwarts, I will cease to exist_ , he wanted to yell, but he bottled up his feelings inside. He was simply there to attempt to glue his family back together, not star in a muggle soap opera.

"Are you serious?" he asked his mother. "Charlie refused to stay sober enough to have a conversation with me! My own father told me to _shove off_ and _LEAVE THE BLOODY HOUSE!_ I've only communicated with him for approximately two minutes before he decided that _YOU'RE_ better off _WITHOUT ME!_ "

"Maybe we are," Molly flippantly replied. Percy was shocked. "I don't want to see you again, Percival. I mean it. Do you have no shame? Forcing your own mother to take a bath?"

"Do _YOU_ have no shame?" Percy snapped back, standing up. "Putting _ME_ in that position where I had to?"

He thought his mother was here to apologise to him, but in fact, she was here to tell him that he had a stick up his arse. That she was ashamed of him. That she didn't want him.

She didn't finish her tea but took the box of biscuits into her arms and walked out.

 _"THOSE ARE MINE!"_ Percy called out after her. _"MOTHER… STOP ACTING LIKE A CHILD! IF YOU CONTINUE THIS, I WILL BE FORCED TO CALL YOU BY YOUR FIRST NAME!"_

 _"IF YOU DARE DO THAT, PERCIVAL, THEN I'LL MAKE SURE THAT YOU'LL REGRET IT!"_ Molly yelled back at him, and Percy could see biscuits flying everywhere from the half-open tin. _"I DON'T WANT YOU IN MY HOUSE! YOU'RE NOT WORTH ANYTHING TO ME! I DON'T CARE IF YOU DIE ALONE AND MISERABLE! LOOK AT WHAT HARRY'S SACRIFIED FOR THIS FAMILY COMPARED TO WHAT YOU'VE DONE! WHERE WERE YOU WHEN WE NEEDED YOU? I AM ASHAMED TO CALL YOU MY SON!"_

Percy felt like she'd just slapped at the last bit, because he did not expect that.

"And where were you when _I_ needed you…?" Percy whispered to thin air, as he leaned against the wall.

He sighed deeply, and then shook his head in dismay. He closed the door, and then climbed up his room again. He remembered about the tea mugs sitting outside but suddenly he was too tired to even consider moving. Percy heard someone knocking on the door but he was too tired to get up, too tired for anymore _disappointment_.

He wished he could sleep, but he just stared at the ceiling. He was not motivated to do anything.

At around three in the morning, Percy made his way to Diagon Alley and bought expensive creams that helped heal burns and gashes—mostly used by dragon tamers, obviously. He also found various weight gaining supplements and potions, one of them allowed him to appear like he'd put on weight for a whole seventy-two hours! He had never used any of his money before, but in the past month used more than he would in a whole year. The cream was painful on his arms, and he sat there, applying and re-applying the cream all day long until the burns had become into this congealed mass of marred collagen, and misshapen skin. His wounds became turned into thick, purple scars.

It took three days until the wounds healed. He was in intractable pain, as the skin tightened and condensed. His skin felt hot and red, almost so hot that he felt like he had been seared off all over again.

Percy realised that this was probably why such things were usually done in a hospital.

He went off to take a shower then after a few days without. He had spent a week in his flat doing nothing. He had failed to do what he was supposed to do. He had failed in convincing himself that he was mentally stable. Percy wished that he could erase the last week. It was pathetic. A singular moment of self-destructiveness leading him spiralling into an inane depression and three days just to fully attempt to physically heal the evidence.

Percy went to get the pants that he'd sewed down to his size, and then just let his shoulders drop.

He disappeared to look past his _MISTER DRAGONHEART'S SUPER-FAST ACID AND BURN REMEDY_ to get to his bottle of _CHUBBY MUMMY'S WEIGHT GAINING SUPPLEMENT: WE MAKE YOU LOOK LIKE YOU PUT ON WEIGHT FOR A WHOLE 72 HOURS_. This was particularly reserved for apparently people that had a 'feeding' or 'chubby' fetish, and Percy did not know what that meant nor did he care enough to find out.

Percy read the instructions and only took the smallest bit of the potion. Almost instantly afterwards did he feel his legs become bigger and softer, his concave belly turning outwards, and his arms thicken. Percy looked down at his body and frowned. He was about to burst out of his pants and all he'd had was a single _DROP!_

He examined himself in the mirror and frowned. He felt like he'd put on masses but he just realised how thin he still was. Percy was only a little thinner than he used to be before Fred's death, but not worryingly thin like he was.

He moved through his impressive collection of button-downs and shirts and then wrapped his arms around his unused pile of clean sweatpants and threw it on his bed. He picked long-sleeved sweatshirts he had—mostly of his favourite Quidditch team, the Ballycastle Bats and a few hand-me-downs from everyone in the family. He even had one of Ginny's Holyhead Harpies. He put on a pair of oversized sweatpants, tied the waistband as tight as possible and then threw one a Chudley Canons sweatshirt that felt more like putting on a gigantic blanket.

Percy stared back at his usual clothing—his favourite button-downs and trousers. He sat on his bed, staring down at the mirror and felt like he was fifteen years old again. He was certainly dressed like one. Percy was afraid of wearing his old button-downs. What if the potion just wore off? Then it would be obvious. At least when he was already swimming in baggy clothes, how could anyone tell if they'd become baggier than usual? Far more difficult than one day seeing him fill into his favourite button-down and the next day seeing it hang off his bony collarbones.

He left the flat not long after he'd finished packing all his baggy sweatpants and long, even baggier sweatshirts. Dear Merlin. He felt like a _child_ in these clothes. Percy did not know what was going on in his fifteen-year-old head either.

Percy thought he'd leave without interacting with anyone, but it seemed that Audrey left her flat at the same time.

"You look good," Audrey obviously was staring down at his body, trying to see if there was a different. Fortunately, he was completely covered by his clothes, and beyond rosier cheeks, he didn't particularly look any different. He'd always had a thin, narrow face that he loathed because it accentuated the fact that he had eternal dark circles in his eyes from his erratic sleeping schedule. These days, he either barely slept or was always asleep. These days, he barely considered getting up before two. "Wow."

Percy knew that _look_ on her face. "Audrey? Is there something that you wish to discuss other than my appearance?"

"Me?" Audrey shook her head. "Oh no! Nothing at all! I do not wish to discuss… anything… well, maybe there is something that's on my mind recently that I don't think you won't appreciate but I feel like I have to mention?"

Percy raised an eyebrow. "What is it?" he crossed his arms over his chest.

"Your mother is a giant bitch," Audrey said almost immediately and then placed her hand on her mouth as if that would erase the fact that she'd said it.

He huffed his chest up. "Excuse me?" Percy spat out venomously.

"Stealing _MY_ biscuits and telling you that she doesn't care about whether you die miserable and alone! That you're worth nothing to her! That-that she's ashamed to call you her child! Sounds like she wishes this Harry bloke was eating her wrinkly c… _well!_ " Audrey yelled out, her hands shaking. _"THE NERVE OF HER!"_

Somehow, it never clicked into Percy's mind that Audrey overheard their conversation. And he did not want to think about what Audrey just said about his mother and Harry doing… _disgusting!_

She picked up a flask from her rucksack and then offered it to Percy. "It's a good thing I made today's smoothie with biscuits. Here. Have it," he slowly took it from her. "Actually, it's not exactly biscuits. It's shortbread. Millionaire's shortbread. It's my favourite. But they have biscuits inside. And caramel. What's your favourite dessert?"

"Banoffee— _anything_ really," he replied in a dry tone of voice.

Percy was now thinking of the times when he was a child and his mother would make him a banoffee cheesecake, and cover it in so much banana and toffee he could barely cut a slice without all the toppings falling into his plate and the cake falling apart. He would clean his mouth every five seconds as he tried not to _inhale_ his favourite cheesecake. It was sad. Percy realised he hadn't had one in years and doubted he'd have one soon.

Percy leaned back against the wall as he took Audrey's flask. She frowned when she saw his face.

"What's wrong?" Audrey asked, but he didn't know how to tell her—well, anything.

Percy shook his head, and then she just moved close to him, wrapping her arms around him. He never understood how this muggle girl could care about him more than his family ever would. Well, excluding George and Ginny.

He felt ashamed of how little he helped Audrey compared to how much she tried for him. He hadn't asked her about what was happening with her parents, or how her brick-wall brother was doing.

"My summer course is done. I can come with you," Percy heard her say, and he just felt his heart ache.

He opened his eyes and looked down to see her staring back at him with shining, sweet dark brown eyes.

"I already paid my rent. _Nobody_ has to know that I'm not around. They're not treating you right. Your family back in Devon. You're going back, aren't you? Even when your mother told you never to come back," Audrey said and cupped his cheek. "They can't be. They _can't_ be treating you right. I mean, is that why you go away for a few days and then come back here instead of saying with them? You don't have to if you take me with you. I can… I can… I can… I don't know what I can do, but I won't let them treat you the way they do. I _won't_."

Percy just shook his head again, but he could feel tears rising into his eyes but he pushed them away.

Audrey frowned at him. "Percy," she said in a soft voice. "Let me help you."

He stared at her. She was practically begging him and Percy just crumbled, nodding his head.

"Alright but you best behave yourself," he said in a soft voice and then she just tightened her grip around him.

Percy was squirming into her hug. He did not like these-these unconventional displays of affection. Well, to him, a hug that lasted more than ten seconds by a woman by his standards was an unconventional display of affection. And Audrey was pushing it—it was boarding on a near full minute!

Only later in the bus did Percy realise his terrible mistake…

 _HE WAS TAKING A BLOODY MUGGLE TO HIS MAGICAL FAMILY HOME!_


	6. Chapter 6

**this is the first time in weeks i've had a chance to update this fanfiction. sorry about that! now i have to read all my notes back because i don't remember as much. this chapter took me two days to edit. i was extremely tired.**

 **Phoenixx Rising : i love Audrey too! writing her is incredibly fun too. last fanfiction, Molly was nice so it's okay if she's being awful in this one. right? "I love that he still has his personality quirks, but she just accepts them rather than hating him for it like his own family has been doing for like ever." i love how much you love Percy! seriously, that's such a great point! apparently, you do love being angry at my characters but in my defence, i only like problematic characters. ;)**

 **Guest : thank you so much! i'm so flattered! i am planning on continuing. :)**

* * *

 **Love and Old Black Shoes**

Chapter Six

* * *

"… and with You-Know—Voldemort's death marked the ending of the _second_ wizarding war," Percy's jaw was aching because he had talked more in a three-hour-train ride than he ever did in all his life. Except for the time that the Ballycastle Bats _should've_ won a Quidditch tournament but did not because a Keeper was disqualified for attacking an opposing team member after hours because she was, _err_ , menstruating.

"Rockwood. You killed a man. Dead brother." Audrey summarised in emotionless sentences and wide dark brown eyes, looking like she'd been smacked with a Hagrid-sized Glacial Snowflake.

She was never this chalky pale before. He uncomfortably shifted her smoothie bottle in his hand.

Percy drank it all. He believed the twitching in his hands and his inability to sit still might be attributed to the fact that Audrey put enough sugar and fat in this drink to send him flying to Merlin's headquarters.

"This also explains my current political and government position as well as to the fact why my animal slippers keep changing animals, why I did not know that your Vitamins blender did not belt out Bohemian Rhapsody as I originally thought and why it seems that I have put on weight in less than twenty-four hours," Percy placed a hand on his soft belly. It was odd. He was almost used to looking like an Inferius. Spine-chilling ( _literally_ ). "I did not. It is just a potion designed to fill me out so that I do not have to go shopping for new underpants. Comfortable ones that is."

He probably should've stopped there, but Percy kept on going. Tactlessly.

"These instant weight gain potions are an extremely interesting invention actually. They are typically used by women that have a liking to be scoff silly amounts of frosting and cake batter and men that enjoy watching said woman's waistline expand. I am not sure if muggles engage in such practices but in the wizarding world, it is characterised as a— _um_ —sport," Percy had been to a match with Penelope once, and during which watched a twenty-year-old woman eat so many Rainbow Raspberry ice-cream that _The Quibbler_ wrote a monologue about finding the fabled colour-changing dragon at last. "My brother, William, always wondered how it could be considered a sport if the participants refuse to exercise any willpower over their love of refined carbohydrates and sugars but I digress. I think that anything could be turned into a sport or competition. I competed with myself over how fast I could memorise my 523-page summarised Potions notes in my last year. It _only_ took me twenty-three days, and eighteen hours!"

"Potions and lotions," Audrey repeated in an indifferent voice. "Wizards… wizards… _wizards_."

Percy's lip was quivering. He wanted to tell her _everything_.

He wanted to tell her about how seared his arm off in an unlocked room and nobody had found him even though he was sure that smoke had escaped the room, about his favourite Quidditch team and the 1923 Misplaced Garlic Debacle that nearly officially killed their four-century old Keeper and about the Pixie Puffs that he used to eat to get prizes related to them. He wanted to tell her about the comfortable candy-coloured underpants he had in his bag and how he wondered how her pulverised custard cream paste tasted like… Percy was not sure until then but he realised that he didn't just fancy her. Percy _loved_ her, and he was not sure _when_ this had happened.

He was appalled. Most books would tell him that it was not enough time for him to decide. But he felt like he would throw himself in front of the Hogwarts Express for her. It was either he was a closeted romantic or a twat.

Only he could fall in love with a girl he talked to a handful of times. But he'd seen her in her bathrobes, so their relationship wasn't that conventional, right? Percy couldn't even guess what colour knickers Penelope wore. And they'd been in a relationship for years _and_ he'd proposed to her.

"Audrey?" Percy raised an eyebrow over at her, noticing that her face paled into what he could only describe as Malfoy's hair colour. "Audrey, I-I'm… I'm not insane. I can prove it to you… I could-I could…"

Percy swallowed the lump in his throat. How did he get an _O_ in Charms again? He was hardly charming.

"I'm wearing magical socks that do not repel any kind of foot odour. I didn't bother changing them for a week," Percy suddenly said. "Do you want to see them?" he then realised exactly what he said and blushed profusely.

"No, Percy, no," Audrey replied, her voice had an airiness he'd never heard before. "I believe you."

"You do?" Percy perked up. "Brilliant. Because _I_ certainly wouldn't have believed this rubbish without a convincing, well-written twenty-page essay about how wizarding history correlates with muggle history if I was in your position."

"My father had a heart attack. My mother has turned into a cow, and now, the bloke I fancied tells me I stare at him too much and that magic is real and that where he comes from, there is a sport with an iron ball and somehow, it is _completely legal_. He is dead serious about it and is surprised that I did not ask for an essay regarding how seriously serious he is," Audrey repeated in a mechanical tone. "Well, Percival, I have to say that I'm actually more inclined to believe this garbage than I am to believe that you could make a joke this long, intricate and elaborate. I don't mean to insult you but I don't think you can fabricate something like this. I mean I did see your living room décor. You think that adding a yellow pillow to your couch _brightens up the place_."

Percy huffed. "It surely does," he raised an eyebrow. "My yellow pillow mimics the very natural presence of the sun. With that being said, I refuse to open the blinds in my flat. I prefer waking up the natural way—not with an abundance of sunlight, but with three pots of coffee."

"I can't believe this," Audrey shook her head in disbelief. "I must have some _wonderful_ social skills to end up here."

Percy then perked up, "If you would like, I could lend you my book on adequate social skills—if you promise to keep it in the pristine condition that it's in! Granted _I'm_ not the best at said social skills but perhaps, you will make more of that book than I ever would. It was rated _five_ cauldrons in _The Daily Prophet!_ "

"You have a _BOOK_ on social skills?" Audrey seemed surprised to learn this. Maybe his social skills weren't so bad after all. "God, how many friends did you have in your big fancy wizard school with cauldrons and- _and_ … prophets!"

Percy flinched. " _Err_ … not many. That was my point. I did mention I am not the best at social skills and the book did not help me. But you will probably reap the benefits more than I would considering you are an attractive woman."

She nodded her head dumbly. "Thank you," again, Audrey didn't sound very flattered.

"Audrey?" Percy said in a soft voice, as he pulled Audrey's face up to stare at her facial features. She did not look as happy and bubbly as she was in their flat. Something in Percy's stomach told him that it was not the fact that she was travelling in a bus full of crying babies and men that smelled of gone off bread that bothered her. "Did I upset you?"

She swatted his hand away. "No. You didn't," she looked away. "And I thought I _stared_ too much."

"You do, but refusing to maintain eye contact with me is even more unnerving," Percy stiffened in his seat. "Especially when I tell you all about a world you did not know about previously to our conversation. Are you upset by my décor? If you would like, I would allow you to—"

"You _precisely_ said that you don't like me staring at you," Audrey sounded like she'd just scoffed down a bucket of Ice Mice. Her tone could make a Malfoy shiver.

The bus stopped, and people were walking out. Percy believed they had at least two more stops to go.

"You know what I think about you, Percy?" Audrey asked, as she got up and threw her giant leather bag over her shoulder and looked at him with a look of unhappiness. He did not know where this came from. Perhaps, he had really upset her by offering her to smell his socks. "I think you're not happy with anything. I think it's impossible to make you happy unless this Merlin bloke himself descended from whatever rainbow in the sky he's from to tell you about how you were chosen to lead King Arthur to another victory."

"That's not true!" Percy replied, feeling lightheaded and despondent. "I-I-… I'm very happy with my book on adequate social skills. It rated _FIVE_ cauldrons on _The Daily Prophet!_ "

By the time that he'd digested that Audrey was leaving, she was already gone.

Percy's heart broke into a thousand pieces, because she was _rejecting_ him. Oh, and his book.

And because he was sensible, Percy was running after, nearly tumbling down the hot pavement. He didn't have to run very far because he noticed her sitting on a bench, curled up with her hands on her lap. He hadn't noticed she was wearing a floral dress until then. She looked like Aunt Muriel when she was showing off another pair of expensive curtains. It mattered not because Percy practically threw himself at her feet. Eloquent and not desperate at all.

 _"AUDREY!"_ Percy was sure that this was not the sweet, elegant entrance that he wanted to show up with. "You-you left rather hastily! And you've forgotten the bottle that you poured your biscuit juice in!"

"It is called a _milkshake_ ," Audrey told him. "You can't _juice_ a biscuit. You blend it with ice-cream and milk."

Percy pushed his oversized glasses up his nose. "Biscuit milkshake. Yes. Yes… _correct!_ Merlin, Audrey, you… are smart! And do not need a book for social skills at all! I am but a twonk with a Elvish-to-English dictionary!"

Audrey sniffled, looking away from him. Her tears stained on her face. "Thank you."

He wanted to hold her and Percy was not a very touchy person and there was the fact that he was sure his palms were sweaty and his heart was about to beat out of his ear. "I _did_ upset you."

Audrey shook her head. "I'm not upset," she rubbed her red eyes. "I just have a lot of feelings. It's not every day that I've been told the bloke that I fancy can turn clouds into peanut butter. And I can't just accept it immediately! Even if-even if I do believe you. Which by all logical accounts, I _shouldn't!_ "

"You _are_ upset," Percy said, looking straight at her. "And _no_ , I cannot control the weather like that."

He pulled her chin up and then Transfigured her favourite smoothie bottle into a handkerchief and wiped her tears away before reverting it to her smoothie bottle. Albeit a clean smoothie bottle. Percy was not handing her one covered in his saliva and biscuit crumbs. How uncouth and completely barbaric.

Audrey placed the bottle back in her bag and just _stared_ at him. He was somewhat unnerved and flattered.

" _Err_ … thank you?" Percy said. "I appreciate you maintaining eye contact with me. For a long period of time."

She still didn't move her eyes away from his face. Alright. Now, Percy did _not_ appreciate it.

Percy played with the collar of his—or rather Ron's—Chudley Canons sweatshirt and said, "You know, in the wizarding world, we have portraits that you can paint. And stare at for a long period of time. If you have money that you have no idea what to do with, I suggest you have me painted. Though saying that makes me sound egotistical."

"You know what?" Audrey shook her head. She had been lost in thought. "I feel like I'm in Alice in Wonderland."

"There is _no place_ called Wonderland. I had read a book regarding the fifteen uncommon underground hide-outs in the wizarding world and there is _no_ Wonderland. However, in 1904, there briefly was the existence of a _Wander_ land in which anyone that entered the cave was then bewitched to wander around aimlessly until they died of famine. The myth says that the cave reappears all around the world, ready for its next victim," the reference obviously went through Percy's big, fat head and it just made Audrey look even more surprised that he said that with a straight face.

"You're absolutely mad," Audrey decided. "I can't even convince myself you're a wizard and now, I'm going to your house with you to see _magical_ … things after a _WAR_ that I didn't know happened and no non-magical person knows that it's happened but-but people _died?_ _We_ could've died? And God, why am I even _considering_ that it might be true? I'm not even sure why I believe you. I think it's a combination of me fancying you and trying to explain how you manage to keep your flat so neat without using a vacuum cleaner or owning a single mop. That means I must have a mental problem, doesn't it? Are you real, Percy? Are you sure you exist? Do _I_ exist? Bloody hell."

Percy stared at her with confusion. "What is a vapour cleaner?" he did not hear of this contraption before.

"God, is your house anything like the gingerbread house?" Audrey asked with renewed zeal.

Percy did not understand what she meant. "There are gingersnaps in the house if you want some."

Audrey did not say anything for a while, like she was just thinking about it. He hoped she'd say yes. They were very nice ginger snaps. He had them with his mother's tea usually—well, before his mother told him that she thought that they were better off without him. Percy supposed she didn't want to make him any tea anymore.

Percy moved closer to her and placed a hand on her knee. "Audrey, your mood swings are giving me a hernia."

 _"YOU JUST TOLD ME ABOUT THE EXISTSENCE OF SOMETHING I THOUGHT WAS A FAIRY TALE AND I BELIEVED YOU IMMEDIATELY! GIVE ME SOME CREDIT!"_ Audrey reminded him. He supposed that that was somewhat shocking. Not as shocked as Percy was when he realised that muggles had a complicated process for 'doing laundry' that involved talking to an inanimate object and cursing its existence without _actually_ cursing its existence. "And you're a magical being. Like out of a Tolkien novel. And you want to take me to your _MAGICAL HOUSE_."

"Who is—" Percy did not get a chance to ask that question because she attacked him with questions.

Audrey shook her head. "This is like a fairy-tale, isn't it? Wow. Am _I_ a princess? Are you giving me a fancy dress?"

"No, you are not," Percy replied, confused now. "I'm painfully broke. I cannot give you a fancy _anything_."

Percy was still not sure if she was angry at him for being a magical being, or if she was ready to marry him.

He never really understood what was going on in Audrey's head, but she couldn't be angry _and_ ask him if she was a princess, right? She had to like him _a little bit_ if she still referred to him as 'the bloke she fancied', right?

"I just-… you're a _WIZARD!_ " Audrey said, sounding both horrified and amazed.

"Yes, Audrey!" Percy stared at her with shock. "Why don't you tell _ALL_ of England?"

She blushed but laughed. "Percy, they won't think we're talking about anything _real!_ I could just tell them that we're auditioning for a part in a local production of the Wizard of Oz!"

"Where is this Oz and why does it have its own singular wizard?" Percy inquired. "I feel like I should take you back to the flat and have you sleep on this. I've seen more drunken men make sense out of a situation than you currently are. In fact, I—" he realised suddenly where he was _supposed_ to be going to and quickly jumped on his feet.

Because Percy also realised he hadn't been there in _weeks?!_ Somehow, he thought that he'd only been away for a few days but it was dawning on him that he slept for weeks. Time passed so quickly and slowly with Fred gone that it hadn't even percolated through his mind that the house might be… _infested_ again! And _NOT LOCKED!_ His mother might've peeled his wallpaper off in vengeance! How did two weeks even pass by since he'd been there?

Percy placed his hands on his face. _"THE BURROW!"_

He then looked back at a confused Audrey who apparently did not know the state of horror he was really living in.

"I can take us to the Burrow—that is my 'magical' house—without the use of the bus," Percy said very hurriedly. What if the house collapsed? What if everyone had died? "However, I do have to mention that you might become violently ill at this mode of transportation— _oomph. I AM NOT THE MODE OF TRANSPORTATION!"_

Audrey threw herself over at him, nearly breaking one of his ribs no doubt. She just giggled.

Percy was not amused.

But he was the one that got the last laugh when they made it to the Burrow taking only a few minutes on the Knight Bus. Then she spent the next twenty or so minutes puking into the bushes just outside the Burrow.

"You are _way_ too stiff if you're not making fun of me for throwing up in your bushes," Audrey teased before she turned green and then continued to decorate the bushes with one of her smoothie concoctions. "I can't believe _THAT BUS!_ I can't believe this-this house. This is a _magical_ house! In a part of England I've never seen before! Granted that I've never seen most of England… and I've never been to our Devon, the non-magical part of Devon but I'm currently stood here in _MAGICAL DEVON!_ This is almost a dream, isn't it? God. This is _amazing_. But it's also horrifying. I'm not sure if I'm awake! Pinch me because I really must be dreaming!"

"I will _not_ pinch you!" Percy replied in horror. "That is borderline abuse!"

Audrey just laughed, shaking her head. "You really are _way_ too stiff. It is nowhere near abuse," she pinched him and he winced. Merlin, that was painful. Did muggles really do this? "See? Come on, Percival. Let loose a little bit."

"I do _not_ define letting loose as _pinching a woman_ ," Percy said sternly.

"Did your mum smack you because you put your hand in the biscuit tin before dinner?" Audrey just rolled her eyes, and then she just laughed at him, because she didn't understand. And it was _not_ his mother that smacked him.

He opened his mouth to speak. Percy wanted to tell her _so much_ but he just couldn't.

Percy wanted to tell her about how when he was five years old, he threw himself over at Uncle Fabian who was sitting in his favourite ivory stuffed chair. Percy thought it was an uncomfortable chair. The chocolate-covered carpet was better. Plus, it warded off _dementia_ —or maybe it was another big word that he had heard someone else used before.

Five-year-old Percy was wearing one of Fred and George's pretty shiny new robes that smelled like lemon drops, who, despite being three years old, were bigger than he was. He was waving around a drawing he made of his mother's sleepy potion. Percy dug the last bottle out of the rubbish bin (with Charlie's wand because he was _not_ touching something from the bin, even if it was not dirty. _Gross_ ) and then sneakily drew it so that he could tell Uncle Fabian to buy more of his mother's sleepy potion. Because she did not sleep anymore.

That was bad. He read in the paper before that people could die from not sleeping. He did not want his mother to die.

Yesterday, Percy, who was an extremely light sleeper, heard her wake up at three in the morning and he got up immediately afterwards. He followed her into the kitchen where she was cutting herself a piece of fruit cake before slathering it with margarine. Fruit cake was even grosser than the sleepy potion in the bin. And flobberworms and other gross stuff. Fruit cake was grosser than them _all_. Except maybe Charlie's icky smelly Quidditch socks. _Ick!_

"The sleepy potion will make her love _ME_ again!" Percy was insisted towards Uncle Fabian, tugging at his robes. He did not remember much but he knew that Fabian's face was bloodied and he was exhausted. "I will not annoy her very much at night anymore. Because _I_ won't wake up. And then s-she will not shout at me for- _FOR BEING BAD!"_

Uncle Fabian just shifted away. "Go away, Percival," he did not sound happy. Percy supposed Fabian also did not have enough sleepy potion at night but he knew better than to go to the kitchen to eat slathered fruit cake.

"It is important," Percy waved his arms around in front of Fabian's eyes. " _Very_ important."

When he noticed Fabian was not listening, Percy tugged at his robes even more.

"I know _I_ can't go outside. _IT ISN'T ALLOWED! I'D BREAK A RULE!"_ Percy did not break house rules no matter what. His mother would never love him again if he broke a rule, and she was already very unhappy with him because he woke up last night. Even though he counted until thirty-two bicorns! He tried to sleep but _he just couldn't_. He wished he could. Then his mother wouldn't be unhappy with him. "But you can go outside. You are a big man. You can buy sleepy potion from outside, Uncle Fabian. Then we can be happy and go outside and—"

Percy tugged at Fabian's robes even more and then accidentally ripped them. His heart sunk into his chest— _WHACK_.

" _HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU?_ _I CAN'T POSSIBLY GO ANYWHERE FOR ANYTHING!_ _THERE IS A WAR GOING ON!_ Do you understand?" Fabian got up from his favourite chair. "Do you?"

Percy just shook his head and placed a hand on his stinging, red cheek, biting down his lower lip. He'd fallen to the ground and was sat there with his too-big robes. Fabian grabbed Percy's wrist and pulled him up viciously. That hurt also, but not as much as the smack. Percy had never been hit before.

"Come with me," Fabian instructed and Percy just shook his head. "Let me show you. _Let me show you_."

When he raised his hand up in the air again, Percy got up and watched Fabian leave the room. Percy followed him immediately afterwards, cupping his cheek which was burning at his touch. Percy was not sure what he was going to see, but he did not expect to be apparated outside of the building. He had never left the safe house— _ever_.

Percy had always thought it was going to be something good to leave the safe house. He had heard that it was all green outside, with flowers and… something called _trees_. Percy had never seen these things. He had only read about them in books. He heard these were big animals with green parchment papers called _leaves_. He'd seen pictures of them when he was eating Peppermint Toads. The wrapper always had _trees_ on them. They didn't look very big on the wrapper.

After they apparated, Percy was sick on the floor. It was even grosser than even Charlie's smelly socks.

"Are you happy now? Do you think we could be _happy_ , Percival?" Fabian asked. Percy was confused.

He thought he could be sick _and_ happy. Percy got a lot of things when he was sick. He didn't understand why being sick would make him not happy. His mother did not shout at him when he was sick...

Fabian pushed Percy up to his feet, and then pulled him over to the array of dead, bloodied bodies surrounding him. Percy placed his hands on his face, and covered his eyes but Fabian pushed them away. He could still remember the smell to this day—the gone-off metallic smell wafting off cold, leathery bodies. The sights of decapitated bodies, smashed bones and limbs that had been disconnected with one another. Percy felt like throwing up again, but he couldn't. He had never felt nauseous without throwing up before. It was a very awful feeling because he felt like the _sick_ wanted to go somewhere but it couldn't. He felt like _crying_ but he felt also nothing. He did not want to be there.

He would never come near uncle Fabian in his chair again. He did not want Uncle Fabian to take him here.

 _"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING, FABIAN?! FOR MERLIN'S SAKE!"_ Percy heard Uncle Gideon say when he walked in on their display, also covered in blood. Uncle Gideon said a _bad_ word. Also, Percy was getting sick of seeing all the blood. He had never seen so much crimson bathe anyone's body before today. He had not seen eyes misplaced before. "I heard you were going back to get help— _NOT TRAUMATISE A BLOODY FIVE-YEAR-OLD! I CAN BARELY STAND THE SIGHT MYSELF! I'M SURE THERE'S A PLACE IN THE UNDERWORLD FOR YOU JUST FOR THIS!_ "

Gideon dropped to Percy's eye-level. "Percy? Percy?" he felt a warm, slimy hand touch his shoulder. Percy shuddered.

"It's not like he'd bloody remember," Fabian said, and fifteen-year-old Percy would forgive him years later, because it was the mature thing to do. But he most definitely still remembered then and he would remember it for the rest of his life. In fact, it was seared at the back of his skull. Because he saw a body that cold and rubbery again. He even held it into his arms. _FRED_. His life drained out of his shining, happy eyes, only this sliver of a smile of something that was once there before that would never be again.

 _THIS IS YOUR FAULT. YOU KNEW THAT IT COULD HAPPEN TO FRED. FABIAN SHOWED YOU WHAT COULD HAPPEN AND YOU STILL DIDN'T PROTECT HIM. IT IS YOUR FAULT._

Five-year-old Percy didn't even dare to look up to see Gideon's eyes. He did not want to be struck again for disobeying Fabian. He kept his eyes locked onto the bodies, his eyes sobering up to the cold, dark reality engulfing him.

At twenty-two, he would graduate from that fear of being struck by his uncle. In fact, he would willingly torch his own arm off in _an unlocked room_. Percy bet he should make progress pictures.

 _DO YOU THINK YOU CAN BE HAPPY NOW, PERCY?_ kept rolling in his head. It felt like his head was big and weighed heavy because of how sluggish and tired he was even though he didn't do anything.

"Come on," Uncle Gideon picked Percy up like he was an infant. He hadn't been picked up in ages. He didn't realise he was shaking until he had two stable arms wrapped around him.

Gideon took him home. Percy was sick again but it was not as bad as the first time. He was not sure what happened but he knew that he had broken a rule and that he was not sure how. He had never gotten punished for it because his mother didn't know. Percy was gripping very tightly around Gideon's hand afterwards; not sure he could let go. His eyes locked onto the ground where the bodies laid only moments before.

"Uncle Fabian is having a hard time," Gideon said, and Percy was not sure if he could understand. "Okay?"

Percy then looked up at the bloodied Gideon. He then just started asking questions. He asked about what kind of spells made the bodies look like that and what kind of potions could make bones turn into liquid. Like soup.

Gideon didn't answer any of them. "It's okay, Percy," he only said, "It's okay."

Percy was curious when he asked those questions. He was just _scared_.

Maybe the sleepy potion could do this also. Maybe that was why his mother stopped taking it. Maybe that was what Uncle Fabian was trying to tell him. That it was bad. He didn't know. He just was suddenly very scared, and didn't ever want to leave the house. He wanted to hide in the linen closet instead. And not eat so that he stayed small so that people did not find him. He would also not sleep just in case these men came looking for him with their big potion bottles and large wands. Maybe they found his father and maybe that was why he was gone.

Maybe that was why he didn't come home for Percy's birthday but he came for Ginny's.

Gideon placed him down beside his favourite chocolate frog collecting cards, and then gave him a new chocolate frog. Percy placed it down, all the amusement disappeared from his face and he just looked up at where Gideon was, but he wasn't there anymore. Percy grabbed his new chocolate frog and his playing cards and wobbled downstairs.

His mother and him stayed downstairs in this little room and Percy didn't want to be alone. _Ever_.

Percy bet those men that lost their arms died without their mummies around. Percy wouldn't. Ever ever _ever_.

He found her in her bed, with the twins playing with a giant phial of potion. Baby Ginny was crying in the cot, and Ron was trying to eat something that he shouldn't be sticking into his mouth.

 _"MUMMY!"_ Percy looked up at his mother. _"UNCLE FABIAN HURTED ME!"_ he decided to say.

He pointed to his cheek which was still pulsating with the stinging heat from the smack that he'd received for… he was not sure yet, but he felt very bad. And sick. Like he ate too much, and was going to throw up again even though he did not eat much at all. He felt bad for getting Uncle Fabian in trouble, but Uncle Fabian _hurt him_. A lot.

And he was not sure how to explain that Uncle Fabian made his head hurt.

"Uncle Fabian _hurt_ me," Molly corrected his English as he pulled Ginny into her arms. She looked like she was about to fall asleep in the cot, her eyes so red that Percy thought they looked like strawberries. "I thought you were taking a bath upstairs. Weren't you taking a bath upstairs? You reek."

Percy opened his mouth to explain even that he took a bath this morning but then Uncle Fabian took him to this place with the bodies… but he didn't think his mother really wanted to listen. She had her hands tied. So, Percy just walked upstairs with his new chocolate frog and took a shower because maybe it was the smell that was making him sick.

That night, his colourful cards looked grey, and the chocolate tasted waxy and funny.

If Percy was asked to pinpoint a time in his life where Perfect Prefect Percy must've emerged, he would've assumed then because the day after, he walked to the big library they had in their safe house. He picked up a book and sat down to see what kind of spells did they use to make the bodies look like _that_. Spells to break bones, to hurt people and to make eyes seep out of one's skull. He noticed his hands shaking, as he sat down and he read. He did not understand very much, but the pictures were very vivid just like what he had seen before. This was not like the fairy tales that he read, even though those were sad sometimes also. These were real pictures and people really did these to other people and that was why they had to stay inside. Now, he knew too. That was why they could never be happy. _Ever_.

And then one day, little George wouldn't be able to sleep and there would be no sleepy potions. Even though it was after the war, George would say to Percy that night: "Percy, I want come up. I not sleep."

And Percy sat there being afraid that George saw something he _shouldn't_ have, but he couldn't let him know. Because there was no more Uncle Fabian or Gideon. There were no more bodies of white rubber and blood soup waiting for him downstairs. Percy couldn't let _anyone_ know because now, they were supposed to be happy. So all he could do was purse his lips together in a tight line and say:

"I want _to_ come up," corrected six-year-old Perfect Prissy Percy, "I _cannot_ sleep."

As Percy recalled this memory, he was absentmindedly rubbing his own cheek and then flushed when he realised what he was doing. Fortunately (or unfortunately, Percy could not decide yet), Audrey was done covering the Burrow's bushes with her very pink vomit and hadn't noticed his memory lapse in sanity. Percy pulled out his wand and cast a scouring charm. The bright green leaves were now more vibrant than ever before, covered in water.

 _"WOW!"_ Audrey decided to say, staring at the bushes with an excitement. Her eyes lit up. "And we haven't even gone into the house yet. Tell me—do I expect to see amazing animals and bright balloons?"

Percy appreciated the alliteration. "Depending on what you have in mind. _I_ do have a pet owl."

 _"An owl?"_ Audrey looked like a child lost in Honeydukes. Percy made a mental note never to take her to Honeydukes.

Walking inside, Percy didn't know what to expect. He did not expect to see his mother sitting on the ground, wearing a pair of gaudy purple robes covered in what looked like cheese and tomato sauce and trying to kill a giant fire crab that was making its way out of the living room floorboards. How a crab native to _Fiji_ ended up living under their floorboards was quite the mystery that Percy had no interest in unravelling.

"You never told me you had a pet crab with _JEWELS_ that shoots _FIRE!_ " Audrey yelled in horror.

Percy couldn't believe this. He didn't even really walk into the house and already they were in risk of being burned alive. He couldn't allow his mother to do this! And how did the rest of the family not care?

He grabbed Molly's arm and pushed her aside. She was sobbing and afraid.

Percy ran his hand through his hair. And they told him that the _O's_ that he had in Hogwarts were useless! He apparated into his father's shed and came with a standard hamster cage that was somehow charmed to float on its own at random intervals (second mental note: father and Charlie were sprawled onto the ground, heavily passed out).

After casting a tickling and knockback jinx, he managed to cage the beast whilst sustaining only the most minimal amount of damage to his arms, and legs. Which meant that Percy had large, painful burns on his arms and legs.

"Owning this creature requires a licence by Ministry standards," was all that Percy could say, but then he felt his mother wrap his arms around him and it was strange. It almost felt like she was _happy_ to see him. That was odd. Last time he saw her, she was adamant about how he should die miserable and alone. "Mother, we are breaking the law."

He then looked over at the door to see Audrey gawking at him. "Audrey? Are you alright?"

"I'm very alright," Audrey just smiled sheepishly. "Percy… I know what I want for my birthday."

Percy looked down at the crab and just shook his head. "I am not peeling off a jewel from this creature. I would like to keep both my arms intact thank you very much," he couldn't believe the hypocrisy. If they knew he tried to scorch his arms off with an _Incendio_ , they'd probably go ballistic but it was perfectly fine if he wanted to get a ruddy diamond!

He slowly and carefully managed to walk outside and keep the creature out in its cage. With any luck, a Potions Master would decide that he just _had_ to have a new cauldron bottom to celebrate the end of the war.

Percy walked back inside and spent the next hour attempting to clean the mess that they'd made. It was a big mess.

The biggest of which—aka the crab—was somewhat handled, but he'd fixed the floorboards, cleaned spillages, and made sure that there was no more exploding macaroni and cheese balls spitting tomato and cheese sauces at him. Then he put a pot of tea in the living room for his mother and Audrey whilst he took a long shower trying to dislodge cheese sauce from his ears and face. So far, being at the Burrow wasn't so bad.

Percy was in the Burrow for two hours without getting yelled at. That was progress.

In the bathroom after a nice, hot shower, Percy threw on a Wimborne Wasps sweatshirt, and a pair of baggy grey sweatpants with yellow bees patterned. These were Charlie's, so the sweatpants were extremely short, and beyond baggy. Percy was just glad he was wearing his own underpants, and with the weight gain potion, Percy did not even have to spello tape them to his hips anymore!

He couldn't believe that this was his good news of the week. That, and the burns from the fire crab were satisfying him. The patches hurt, enough to remind him that he hated himself but not so much that he was not able to focus on the task of attempting for the hundredth time to glue his family back together. Percy tended to them to them as he did with his old burns, smearing them with dragon burn cream. Already, the cream was cooling the burning sensation.

When Percy walked downstairs, he saw that George, Ginny, Molly and Audrey were drinking from his teapot.

George and Ginny looked relieved when they saw him and greeted him with embraces. Percy was getting ruddy sick of these hugs. He didn't even bother hugging them back—not that he ever did, but still, Percy felt bad for even leaving in the first place. Percy was not sure how they still lit up when they saw him.

He left and an animal that was a resident of _FIJI_ somehow ended up taking residence in their _LIVING ROOM_.

Percy poured a little bit of tea for himself and sat down on a loveseat just opposite to his family—and Audrey.

After a few moments, he realised he was not getting an apology from his mother, which… was not the worst thing in the world. In fact, Percy cleared his throat as he took a sip of tea and went along with it. Percy supposed that taking care of a giant fire crab did not bring back his affectionate mother.

"I would like to discuss what _we're_ going to do with our father and Charles," Percy was calm, stirring in his teacup.

He hated this. It was almost like admitting defeat to him—that he could not deal with Charlie and Arthur on his own and that he needed help. At the same time, he was rather irritated that _he_ was still doing most of the bloody work.

Percy supposed it was his shattered self-esteem conflicting with Prefect Perfect Percy.

" _Err_ , I suppose insisting that I should take them to a St Mungo's institution in Sheffield was not a brimming option. At least mother didn't agree with it," Percy flushed as he said this because he noticed Ginny and George eying their mother cagily. "I would like to add on it is mostly because it involves me having to say that our parents are near vampiristically mad to get it approved in _MY_ name, along with the general parental duties that would be registered to me in my name and-and Kings— _the Minister_ —wouldn't approve something that besmirches our family name."

Yes, Percy deliberately turned the blame on himself because this was the longest he'd gone with his mother in the room not looking like she wanted to swat him like he was a Cornish pixie.

He couldn't exactly say: _don't worry. I will make sure our parents' name is restored to its high standing before I kill myself._

"With Charles and our father getting sufficient treatment only could I focus on— _um_ —doing some form of yoga with Ronald and William because they are just about as unpredictable as much as an Extreme Exploding Snap card," Percy tried to turn their attention back to him but George and Ginny were now tossing their eyes back from Molly to Audrey. "Oh! _GINEVRA!_ With the fact that this house has turned into the land of sentient fried macaroni and cheese balls and fire crabs, I forgot to introduce you to Audrey! She is… almost my flatmate!"

Audrey awkwardly waved over at Ginny who just gave her a slow head nod. Audrey did not look comfortable. Percy made a mental note to tell her what in Merlin's name Extreme Exploding Snap was later.

"You _should_ label mum as _mentally unhinged_ ," George suddenly exploded and made Percy and Molly flinch. It looked like George and Ginny had come to this agreement some time ago which beckoned Percy to wonder what was happening in the house? Well, Audrey now knew what Extreme Exploding Snap looked like.

Percy just shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "I think that's rash," he said. "I am extremely apologetic for not being here for the past few weeks. In fact, I did not notice that time had gone by this quickly, I—"

Ginny shook her head, looking sombre. Audrey did not look very happy right then either.

"Ginny met Audrey before," George explained and Percy did not really understand. "I took her to your flat. In fact, we unlocked your door to tell you the house is just about to burn itself down and you've only been gone a little while. But you were bloody knocked out. I wasn't even sure if you were asleep or unconscious, but given that you were in bed, _drooling_ , I thought you were probably asleep but wasn't completely sure."

"I do not drool when I am asleep," Percy mumbled under his breath.

"So, I took her to Audrey," George continued the story. "And Audrey told _me_ that mum told you to not to come back, and just to stay in the flat and die miserable and alone and that's probably why you've not bothered coming back. Also, it probably didn't help that dad gave the same message. We can't really bloody blame you."

Percy was extremely red, but Audrey didn't seem to help. "Well, it's all just— _err_ … semantics!"

"She told you you're not worth anything to her. And she told you she's ashamed to call you her son and talked about this Harry fellow and all he sacrificed for this family—what a load of jabberwocky," Audrey decided to say, before flushing herself. " _AND_ your mother stole _MY_ biscuits! _THOSE WERE FROM MARKS AND SPENCER!_ "

Audrey was not helping. Percy was sure that they were adamant on making his mother the bad person here.

Molly opened her mouth, looking like she wanted to defend herself. "Fine," was all she replied with.

 _"FINE?_ But it's not fine! I don't think it's fine! I don't think it could _EVER_ be fine!" Ginny stood up, looking angry. "You threw him out of the house _EVEN WHEN HE WASN'T IN THE BLOODY HOUSE!_ You changed, mum! Just like Bill! Just like Ron! Just like Charlie or-or… Dad! But you're trying to pretend that _you didn't_ … throwing Percy out of the house! Why? Is it because he's doing _YOUR_ housework? Maybe he wouldn't need to if _YOU'D_ do it! Maybe he wouldn't need to force you to take a bath if you'd have done it yourself before!"

"Ginny!" Percy replied in shock. "She is… your mother." Even he wouldn't talk to her like that and she practically told him to shove off and die a while back.

 _"LOOK AT HIM! YOU TOLD HIM TO DIE ALONE AND MISERABLE AND THAT HE'S WORTH NOTHING AND-AND…HE'S DEFENDING YOU!"_ Ginny screeched. Audrey and George weren't helping—they looked like they agreed. _"KINGSLEY WON'T LISTEN TO PERCY BUT-BUT HE'LL LISTEN TO ME! I'M-I'M DATING HARRY POTTER! I'LL TELL KINGSLEY THAT YOU'RE ALL CRAZY… F-F-F-… F-FRED WOULDN'T HAVE WANTED THIS! HE'D BE SICK TO HIS STOMACH TO SEE WHAT YOU ARE DOING WITHOUT HIM! HE'D HATE IT!"_

Percy pulled Ginny close to him, and placed her hand on his hair. He hadn't seen Ginny break down like this.

 _"THIS SHOULD'VE BEEN ABOUT GEORGE!"_ Ginny vocalised. _"FRED WAS HIS TWIN! PERCY AND I ARE THE ONLY ONES THAT BOTHERED TO TALK TO HIM! YOU'RE HIS PARENT! HOW COULD YOU JUST WALLOW IN YOUR OWN MISERY AND LEAVE HIM ALONE? WHAT ABOUT THE REST OF US? JUST BECAUSE WE LOST FRED DOESN'T MEAN THAT_ YOU _HAVE TO LOSE ALL OF US!"_

Ginny shook her head. "But you are!" she couldn't shout as loudly anymore. "You're losing us! And one day, you'll realise that you don't have any children anymore. And dad will too. And it will all be your fault. We couldn't have done anything to save Fred—but you're willingly throwing the-the rest of us away! _WHAT ABOUT US? WHAT ABOUT ME… AND GEORGE?_ Charlie is going to kill himself and our dad in the process and-and… Bill doesn't come home from work. Do you know that Bill and Fleur are possibly filing for a divorce? Do you know how underneath all that anger, how scared Bill is? And Ron! I don't even know where he disappears to _BUT… IT'S… NOT…HELPING!"_

"I''m sorry," Percy apologised for… he was not sure yet but Ginny was shaking. " _I'm_ sorry that _I_ left."

Now, his mum was crying into her tea, Ginny was sobbing into his arms, George emotionless, Audrey confused and there was a fire crab outside their house in a cage that Percy had to tend to at some point.

Molly got up from her seat and wandered over to them. She wrapped her arms around Ginny, who immediately to hug her mother and just sobbed into those gaudy purple robes.

"I miss him too," Ginny snivelled. "I miss Fred _every day_."

Percy was not sure how much more guilt could swallow him whole. He was feeling oddly weird staring at his mum and Ginny hugging in the living room with their snot flying everywhere. Percy was brought back to the world when George slapped Percy's arse and was smirking. Thank you, George.

"I'll talk to your father," Molly suddenly said, and Percy was about to sing—finally, a _breakthrough_. "Percy? I'm—"

"There's no need to apologise," Percy suddenly said.

"You _better_ apologise," added George after. " _Mum_ ," he said with a perky tone at the end.

Percy just shook his head and gestured for his mother to follow him into the kitchen.

"I'll have a long overdue chat," Percy cautiously placed a hand on his mother's shoulder, and then led her towards the kitchen. "Ginny, show Audrey my room and do —I repeat and I swear on Merlin's fine china I will do burn you alive using our new pet fire crab— _DO NOT_ show her any embarrassing pictures of me in Hogwarts. _ESPECIALLY_ not ones you've snapped of me attempting to... snog Penelope Clearwater in an abandoned classroom."


	7. Chapter 7

**there is a lot of shouting in this chapter. and Percy angst. i absolutely adore it. the next chapter is a little sweeter (only towards the end at least). can you believe it? i can't.**

 **no comment replies as i'm exhausted and just want to put this chapter out. i was thinking of delaying it another day, but i think i will probably forget it until next week. i re-read it, but didn't do a re-re-read so apologies for any mistakes. i am not an English speaker, and a lot of stuff goes over my head. i might accidentally write a word and mean another so...**

 **i love this chapter. i absolutely loathe pub scenes in most fanfictions, but apparently, i love writing them.**

* * *

 **Love and Old Black Shoes**

Chapter Seven

* * *

Percy did not, in fact, have a long chat with his mother because the minute he walked inside the kitchen, his father was there and he did not look happy to see Percy there at all.

"My resolve is weakening," Arthur said, and Percy wondered what resolve he was talking about.

It certainly wasn't his resolve to stay sober today that was for sure. Before Percy could continue to take the mickey out of his father, Arthur levitated Percy off the ground and then threw him outside the house. He landed on his arse.

Before Percy could process what was happening, his rucksack fell to the ground, and he had a mountain of clothing covering his feet. He could not believe this. Percy literally could not be in his house for longer than two hours without being thrown out of it! Percy stuffed his sweatpants into his rucksack. Because he was so mature, he stuck his middle finger up at the Burrow, and then got up from the ground with shaking legs and an irritated facial expression.

Percy knew he said he'd give up all the time. He knew he said he would _never_ come back but he did only to get thrown out. They were playing an intense game of muggle cat and mouse and had been for a few weeks now.

 _"GINNY!"_ Percy yelled out in a loud voice, as he wandered to the front yard, which was riddled with gnomes. He had had enough of this. His arse was aching like he'd done a few squats. _"GEORGE! AUDREY!_ Mum…? _Mum?"_

He was not staying in the same house as two people that _ABUSE_ illegal potions. He did not care anymore.

Ginny opened the door, apparently to let him in but instead, Percy grabbed her wrist and pulled her out.

 _"NOBODY SHOULD STAY IN THAT MERLIN FORSAKEN HOUSE UNTIL THOSE-THOSE TWO PIG-HEADED NEANDERTHALS ARE SOBER! DISCUSSION… ENDED!"_ Percy yelled out loud enough for all of Devon to hear.

Ginny just shrugged and then motioned for George, who had apparently packed previously for this occasion. As Percy processed this scene, George accepted a few sickles from Ginny.

"Do you two bet on _everything_ that I'll do…?" Percy asked in annoyance.

"No," George then looked up at Percy with a wary look on his face. "Are we taking mum?"

Audrey appeared by the doorway, holding her box of unopened biscuits. "I found my—"

 _"OF COURSE!"_ Percy yelled back at George, with a surprised look on his face. He was stressed and tired and honestly, for the first time in a while, he was even _hungry_ because he couldn't remember the last time he ate something that wasn't a spoonful of sugar to prevent himself from fainting. " _I'M NOT LETTING MY MOTHER LIVE IN THIS UNLAWFUL HOUSEHOLD THAT BREEDS UNBELIEVABLE CALAMITIES!_ We don't— _WE-WE DO NOT EVEN HAVE A LICENCE TO OWN THIS BLASTED FIRE CRAB!"_ Percy gestured to the fire crab in its cage. Percy had charmed the cage to administer a hex to keep the crab asleep every twenty minutes.

Ginny looked triumphant and pushed George aside playfully. He groaned and gave her money back.

"Hello Audrey," Percy smoothly said, noticing the look of surprise on her face. "We're evacuating the Burrow because my father and brother are engaging in illegal practices with Romanian elixirs. Let's be off."

 _"WE…_ we only just got here!" Audrey looked confused. She was clinging so tightly on her Marks and Spencer's biscuits Percy would be surprised if she didn't just crush them into a fine sugary powder.

"But-but we've had _tea_ ," Percy fumbled with his rucksack strap. "That's enough time for you to cooldown, isn't it?"

" _NO, IT'S NOT!_ I'm knackered! I've just been on a bus that drives so fast that I saw three of you wobbling around at some point _AND_ I've just discovered today that magic is real and-and that you apparently have odourless socks to go on with-with… your hairless, non-sweat producing body that smells like…" Audrey pushed him towards herself and sniffed him, and Percy was flushing deeply. Especially because he could suddenly see that his mother decided to make an entrance just then. "God, what _is_ that smell? Ink? Paper? You smell like a stationary shop!"

"Thank you," Percy mumbled in irritation. "Before I leave the house, I smother parchment ink all over my body. It's in style now or so _Witch Weekly_ says so. It's very vogue."

Audrey shook her head and laughed. "I can't believe it!" she noticed his confusion. "You read Vogue magazine?"

"Percival, where are we going?" Molly asked. "I don't know what to pack! Is this a holiday?"

"I wish," Percy mumbled under his breath. Unless they wanted to take their holiday in Azkaban for being in possession of Romanian mind-altering potions that were banned ages ago. "What _is_ Vogue magazine?"

Audrey laughed even more, as if he'd said something that was part of a top-notch comedy. See? She wasn't knackered. Knackered people didn't ask him what Vogue magazine was. Knackered people didn't get defensive over their biscuits. Knackered people didn't think that he smelled like ink and paper—wait, that wasn't right. Percy hadn't picked up a parchment or a pot of ink in—oh, he'd forgotten about the letters he sent yesterday complaining to the owl company about how their new spicy snacks was giving Hermes explosive diarrhoea.

"I have some magazines in my flat. I'll show you when we get back," Audrey chirped.

Percy just shook his head. "We are _not_ going back to my flat. If I go back to my flat, I will come back here to attempt to remedy the situation with our father and Charlie again—just like I have been for the past few weeks. _I_ am breaking the cycle," he said sternly. He noticed the looks of confusion on everyone's face and then took a deep breath before saying, " _You_ are going back to my flat but _I_ am going to the Shell Cottage."

George stared at him like he was mad. "Percy, the last time you and Bill were in the same room together, he gave you your own battle scar," he shifted to grab Percy's bandage, and Percy reacted by swatting his hand away.

"I am aware," Percy said, straightening his back. "That is why I'm going alone."

Audrey just gawked at his bandage, and just shook her head. "He'll kill you."

" _YOU'VE_ never even met him!" Percy replied, and then cleared his throat.

"I don't have to!" Audrey waved her arms around and then pointed aggressively at Percy's bandage, like he'd forgotten that he had a head injury that hadn't healed yet. Potions were used with caution when it came to head injuries, so Percy and George's were still sporting their victory wounds. _"He nearly split your skull in TWO HALVES!"_

" _Nearly_ being the operative word," Percy pointed out, crossing his arms. He'd forgotten that his pants were too short and that he looked like a twonk. He was never going to be the winner of _Witch Weekly's_ Most Charming Smile award at this rate. Fortunately, he did not care. "I'll be fine."

Audrey just marched down towards their off-white fence. George and Ginny followed her but tossing looks at him like it was the last time they'd ever see him. Percy didn't doubt that they would not let him go without another talking to.

Ginny and George were probably going to revise the different ways they could tell Percy that he might as well just reserve a grave for himself next to Fred if he planned on going along with his journey to Shell Cottage. How inspirational. In fact, Percy might write a book about his long journey to his own doom and dismay in a cottage far away from him complete with memories of how thirteen-year-old Bill used to spend his free time finding a young, happy Percy's tickle spots. Spoiler: they did not exist. He was _that_ boring.

Molly placed a hand on Percy's shoulder. He noticed she was standing on her toes, and staring at him.

She wrapped her arms around him but it felt… formal. "I don't know what to say."

Percy was just glad that he was taking potions that made him fatter because he felt like this moment would be even less sweet if she was digging her freckled elbows into his jagged ribs.

Well, the moment was awkward never the less. She wasn't really hugging him. She was hugging him in the same manner that _he_ hugged people – stiffly, with caution and wishing it over as quickly as possible.

"It's alright, mother," he shifted uncomfortably. Percy also didn't know that someone's death meant he got hugged more often. He was the one that killed Fred. What were they hugging him for? He was hardly plushy or affectionate.

"I'm absolutely skint now, so you'd have to travel via your own expenses," Percy said seriously, as he broke the embrace that they were in. "I suppose if William doesn't give me a concussion to go nicely with my head injury, I could apply for a job. Though I can't imagine the Ministry will have me for anything given that I told the Minister to f—… _weeeeell_ , that's not very important. _But_ I will look for a suitable arrangement in the meantime and—"

"Sweetheart, F-F…F… l-… left you his money," Molly reminded him, and Percy just flushed even more.

She didn't look happy. She looked depressed to say that. Percy wasn't sure if it was just mentioning Fred, or if she too didn't agree to the fact that Fred practically left everything—from his collection of Charming Cunts magazines that Percy _really_ didn't want, to the pots of Galleons that Fred never got to spend—to Perfect Prefect Percy that disowned himself from his family and then returned his mother's sweater. And nothing to anyone else. Percy didn't want to think about how _that_ might make him feel if he was Fred's mother.

"I… I suppose that he did," Percy still hadn't wrapped his head around the fact that Fred left everything to him. Blimey. And Percy hadn't even finalised his own will yet. He probably should before he—

"Percival," Molly snapped him back into reality. _"Percival?"_

Percy looked down at her. "Yes?" _my name is Percy for Merlin's sake. Percy like Prissy, or so I've been told._

"Are you…" she looked uncomfortable now, looking at him with a confused, scared little expression. Like she was uncertain of what she was going to ask, or if she was supposed to ask it. "Are you alright?'

"Am _I_ alright…?" Percy hadn't heard that question from a member in his family for so long he wasn't sure how to—

 _"OI, PERCE!"_ George broke him out of his thought process. _"IF BILL MURDERS YOU IN COLD BLOOD, DOES THIS MEAN I GET THE FANCY THINGS ON YOUR DESK? BECAUSE I WANT THEM!"_

"Those are _just_ _exotic quills!_ What would _YOU_ do with them?" Percy replied. "Sign my tombstone with them?"

Percy looked down at Molly again, who stared at him like she was just seeing him for the first time.

"Did you always do that?" Molly sounded cold again like he was used to since she turned from his loving, sweet mother into this madwoman that barely left her bed. "You _can't_ just joke about death like that, Percival. Not after…"

He was surprised. Percy honestly thought she would somehow tell him that she knew that he wanted to kill himself and not to do it. Because _that_ was why he was making death 'jokes'. _That_ was why he took death so lightly.

Instead, Molly thought that he was taking _FRED'S_ death lightly. What a joy.

The thought that his mother thought so lowly of him made him feel ill. No wonder she didn't feel like telling him that she was sorry. In Molly's head, Percy was this big bad person that didn't care about the fact that Fred was gone. That he could somehow cope with the fact that he'd clutched Fred's cold, unmoving body in his arms. Percy knew that many of his family members felt like they knew rocks more exciting or emotional than he was. Still, it didn't dull the ache when he was quite blatantly standing there, wondering how long it would take for them to notice that he was falling apart. Percy wondered sometimes if he _deserved_ a help from a healer of some sort.

If he was in such need of help, certainly _someone_ would do more than just let him be.

He knew it in his heart that he should go get help. He should talk to someone, but Percy was unsure of how he was about to go around this. Every time he wanted to talk to someone about it, his arrogant arse only got shouted at. Percy probably thought that his tombstone would have ' _Loving Prat That_ _Finally Dislodged Stick Out of Arse'_.

Written with his exotic choice of quills. By George's giant, wobbly handwriting.

But he _mustn't_ make tombstone jokes now! People dying left and right! You can't cook a curry without seeing someone's chopped arm miraculously falling right into it! Percy should know better.

Death was a serious thing. A _deadly_ serious manner.

"Mother," Percy's voice was suddenly malicious. At that moment, all he could feel was the pain and ache bubbling inside his chest. He was surprised to realise _TWO MONTHS_ had passed since the war had ended. It felt like it was had only been two days. Only ten months until his very serious death that nobody should make fun of. "You told _ME_ to die alone and miserable and that I'm worth nothing to you. Compared _ME_ to Harry Potter and told me you're ashamed that I'm your son. So, I hardly doubt _my innocuous little comment_ is worth of even noting next to _THAT_."

"I thought you were over that," Molly immediately replied.

Percy's eyes were about to bulge out of his skull. _"EXCUSE ME?!"_ he had to bite down his lower lip to prevent himself from saying things to his mother that would be highly inappropriate.

"Do _NOT_ talk to your mother like that!" she was confusing him. One minute Molly wanted to throw him out of the house, the next minute happy to see him and a third minute treating Percy like he was three!

Ginny had walked back over to them, apparently bored of waiting. "Did _you_ upset Percy?"

 _"NO!"_ Molly placed her hand on Percy's arm, and pushing him close to her. Percy squirmed uncomfortably in his position, which was not uncharacteristic for him even if he wasn't upset with his mother. "How could _I_ upset him?"

His mother was acting like a child. Percy couldn't believe this.

 _"YOU UPSET HIM!"_ Ginny looked sad. "What is _your deal_ with Percy, mum? He's got enough on his shoulders _without_ you trying to send him anonymous hate owls… he used to be your favourite! You wouldn't let anyone dare speak ill of Perfect Prefect Prissy Pompous Percy! You _LOVED_ him the most! You were _TORN_ when he sent back the Christmas sweater! You could barely sleep or eat or do anything! You told Fred, George and I off for throwing mashed parsnip in his face! You used to threaten to chop off anyone's hand if they dared touch the doorknob to Percy's room! _BECAUSE_ _YOU USED TO PRETEND HE WAS STILL THERE!_ By the way, Perce, that was why I threw the parsnip on you at Christmas—for being a giant stuck up arse _BUT_ _LOOK AT HIM NOW!_ He came back! F-Fred forgave him and we did too and now-now, he's going to be a pompous idiot jerk that thinks that nothing could happen to him and-and see _BILL_ because someone's supposed to but nobody wants to! And-and you're just standing there _HATING_ him and I don't know what for but he doesn't…"

"George," Molly said sternly, and he looked up from his rucksack and walked over to them.

"What does _George_ have to do with this?" Ginny asked, her hands shaking with rage.

She ignored Ginny. Molly then stared at Percy intensely. "Look at him," she demanded. " _Directly_ at him."

Percy was not sure what his mother wanted to illustrate at this. He looked at George and George looked back. Audrey seemed to get bored also and came to join them. She had opened her box of biscuits and was noshing through them.

George immediately grabbed a chocolate one and then shoved the whole thing into his mouth, chewing avidly when Percy was busy, _err_ … _looking_ at George.

"And?" Percy was missing the point here.

"How _could_ you look at him?" Molly suddenly asked. George grabbed another one to eat. "After…F... just… _d-died_."

George coughed, sending bits of biscuits everywhere. He clenched his fist together, the biscuit in his hand crumbling.

 _"YOU WANT TO KNOW WHY PERCY COULD LOOK AT ME WITHOUT THINKING OF FRED?!"_ George suddenly yelled out, his hands shaking. _"BECAUSE HE DOESN'T SEE FRED WHEN HE LOOKS AT ME! HE SEES GEORGE!"_

Percy blushed deeply. It seemed like his mother had struck a nerve in George and—he had no idea what to do. He had at least stopped _looking_ at George for no real reason other than to prove a sad point his mother was trying to make.

"I'm _NOT_ him!" George gawked at his mother with a look of anger in his face. _"I'M… I'M NOT FRED!"_

Molly opened her mouth to defend herself, or to explain her point but she didn't get to.

 _"DO YOU KNOW HOW HARD IT IS FOR ME TO TRY AND BE OKAY ABOUT THIS?! WHY THE HELL AM I TRYING TO BE STRONG FOR YOU? IT SHOULD BE THE OTHER BLOODY WAY AROUND! HE WAS MY TWIN BROTHER! I LIVED WITH HIM EVERY SINGLE DAY OF HIS LIFE! I WASN'T SEPARATED FROM HIM FOR LONGER THAN A FEW MINUTES SINCE WE WERE BORN! I WAS THE CLOSEST TO HIM! AND… AND… I THOUGHT I WAS MY OWN PERSON!"_ George gestured wildly to himself, his hands shaking. "I didn't used to see Fred when I look in the mirror, but now, thanks to you… _I WILL! HELLO FRED!"_

George was crying, sobbing even. He looked like a complete mess. _"BITCH!"_

Molly looked stunned. She looked like she _wanted_ to tell him off but couldn't.

Percy moved to George and placed his hand on his shoulder. George looked up at Percy, his shoulders and lip quivering as he sobbed, "Perce! She's _my mum!_ This isn't fair! She's supposed to see me as my own unique person! Not just the carbon copy of her dead son! I'm… I'm _NOT_ Fred! _I'M NOT FRED! I'M NOT I'M NOT I'M NOT!"_

"I am aware," Percy replied automatically. Like a muggle robot toy. Wonderful. _"George."_

" _I'm_ going with Percy," George declared, and Percy flushed deeply.

"Pardon?" Percy did not want to take George with him. He was afraid something might happen. Like Bill making George watch Percy slowly being decapitated to finish off what he should've done before.

" _I'M_ not going anywhere with our mother. Ginny and Audrey could be with her, but _I'M_ going with _YOU!_ " so apparently, boys with boys and girls with girls. Percy thought that this practiced was abandoned when they ceased being children studying at Hogwarts. "Mum was trying to tell you that you're soulless for _NOT_ being a complete and utter wreck because Fred's gone by the way. That's what _I_ thought she was trying to get at."

Percy stared at his mother, who just slowly nodded her head. She looked sombre.

"Perce," George's hands balled into fists. "Tell mum how long it's been since you've last ate."

Percy shook his head. "No, George." To which made George look at him with confusion.

Percy was _not_ going to try and guilt his own mother. "No."

George looked up at him in disbelief. "She just told you that she thinks you don't care that _FRED_ _DIED_."

"I'm aware but I'm _NOT_ playing this game," Percy said, stiffening. "If my mother does not believe that I have a soul then so be it. I am not going to shove down some irrelevant information about—"

George looked over at Percy with a stern facial expression. "I bet _he_ doesn't even remember when he last ate. Percy is _that_ hardcore. He could probably make the model on the cover of _Witch Weekly_ look like she's a pig," Percy just frowned because honestly, George was right. And Percy was disgusted with himself enough as it was. "Audrey says he take a weight gaining supplement so that we aren't all scared by Percy's chocolate skeleton impression."

Percy placed his hands into his pockets and shied away. This was making him uncomfortable.

Molly looked at him, and Percy was starting to realise she only really cared about what happened to him when someone else pointed out that he was in eternal distress.

She moved closer to him, and placed a soft, delicate hand on his arm, but Percy just pushed his hand away.

"Thank you, mum but I am not playing this game anymore. I do _not_ want to be a victim to your constant mood swings," Percy mumbled in irritation. "I do not mind if you decide that you loathe me, as long as it's a decision and not an opinion you keep changing every time another one of your children attempts to confront you. When I do attempt to defend myself, I'm wrong. However, the minute that _someone else_ defends me, apparently, _they're_ right."

Percy closed his eyes. "If you do not want to hear what I have to say, then so be it."

Molly winced at his words. Percy was scolding her like a child, but still, it wasn't every day he found out that his mother agreed that he was 'soulless' because he was not 'a wreck' and it took George telling her that he barely ate to help straighten her out. She was _his mother!_ _She_ was supposed to _notice_ these things…

Molly was supposed to keep it together for _him_ , and not force _him_ to bloody do it and then complain about how soulless he was. Percy _had to play the parent here!_ That just felt so wrong. Percy felt like he was being cheated!

"Let's go, George," Percy said, placing a hand on George's shoulder. George just nodded his head.

As they walked away from the girls, George paused midway. He was staring at Percy with a glossy look to his eyes.

"I said those things because I wanted mum to feel bad," George placed a hand on Percy's arm and looked at him with a serious face expression. It was unnerving to see George _this_ serious. "But you _are_ eating loads now, right? I mean— _you're_ just taking the potion or elixir or whatever it is because it'll take time to put on the weight. Right?"

Percy didn't say anything. He opened his mouth to speak, but George cut him off.

"When I was with you, you got Chinese for us and scoffed the whole lot down," George babbled. "And then you made pancakes for us that morning. And you ate after too. And we bought _so much_ junk food that day and ate it all until our bellies hurt. It was bloody fantastic. You're… still eating like _that_ , right?"

Percy's shoulders dropped and George knew his answer.

"You miserable, ugly, skinny bastard," George hissed coldly.

George just stopped walking, placing his other on Percy's dotted arm because he wasn't tall enough to reach his shoulders. Percy almost felt like leaning down like he used to do when they were children but decided against it.

"Perce, it's been _two months_ since Fred died," George told him. "Are you _seriously_ still on the same death diet you were on after the war ended? Do… do you have an undiagnosed eating disorder or a bloody death wish? Or are you _SO_ desperate to become on the front of _Witch Weekly_ magazine?"

"It just…" Percy just slowly shook his head. "It has ceased to become a habit to, _um_ , eat."

On the bright side, his digestive system had never had so much time off before!

"I understand that, Perce," George said bitterly. "It has ceased to become a habit for me to _breathe_."

Percy wouldn't meet George's angry brown eyes. Percy _failed_. He just failed at attempting to keep himself spello-taped together and now, he was being picked apart not unlike Snape would pick apart a small first year for all the mistakes they did on their Potions' essay. Snape. Who was dead. Like _Fred Fred Fred_ who he had _KILLED_ —

"Come on," George gave a sharp nod to the head. "Let's get sloshed—and then eat a fat takeaway."

Percy felt his stomach tighten. "I am absolutely in no way getting—"

Before Percy finished that sentence, George had apparated them away to the Leaky Cauldron. Well, if it helped get them into the mood, Percy's stomach was already _sloshing_.

"I am not getting sloshed," repeated Percy, nursing his singular small drink upon seconds of arriving. That should've been his first sign that things were not going to go _his_ way.

" _We'll_ see about that," challenged George, smirking slightly.

Percy honestly hadn't completely gotten used to the fact that George was old enough to order a drink. So, when George started ordering tonnes and tonnes of alcohol, Percy could do nothing about it. Percy decided to only drink a slight amount to settle his stomach, not enough to get drunk or to tell George anything extremely stupid.

Or at least that _had_ been the plan the first hour.

By the second hour, Percy was complimenting George on how nice the wine that he'd ordered was.

"Do you want peanuts? I've got peanuts," George obviously was a much heavier weight than Percy, who just had one small bit and was already starting to feel a bit sloshed. "Do you fancy another one?"

He nodded his head avidly. "This red wine is _very_ nice," he decided to say.

George snorted. "That's firewhiskey."

Percy looked at the glass a bit more, and then raised an eyebrow. "That explains why it's not red."

By the third hour, Percy was so sloshed he tried to buy Hermes a drink.

 _WAIT! Hermes…?_ In the pub? It might be important. The spicy owl snack company might've replied.

"What are you doing here, silly fellow?" Percy said, and noticed that Hermes was gripping together an official Ministry letter. Percy hadn't seen the official waxy seal in so long that he had forgotten how it looked like.

George snorted. "Applied for a job, Perce?" he smoothed over his eye-gauging bright blue shirt. "Hmm?"

"No," Percy said in a soft voice, and then broke the seal.

Even when slurring, he sat down and then read what had to be at least a two-thousand-word letter in approximately three minutes. He also caught twelve spelling mistakes. He pulled a mandatory quill he always carried around in his pocket, and then circled said spelling mistakes. Percy found them hilarious. George probably would not.

"I'm now on the list of people that are banned from getting a job that pays more than— _say_ —Madam Malkin's."

George was surprised at this, but he was also more surprised at how eerily calm Percy was.

"That's—" George slammed his cup down like the muscle-bound felon he was. "That's not fair! What did you do, Perce? Did you try to kiss up to Kingsley's arse? He doesn't like that. He's not like the rest of your most favourite ministers that love it when you stick your nose up their arses so you clean it up after all they shit they've spewed out. Not just clean, but give it a proper arse kissing too."

Percy was disgusted. "Do you _not_ have a better way of saying that?"

He had lost his meagre appetite and he hadn't had a single peanut from the bowl that George was demolishing.

George just shook his head. "Nope," he popped the 'p'. "So, what did you do? Try to tell the Minister that he was breaking rule number 345 subsection B2A by pouring celebratory drinks in his office? Even after _A WAR_ had ended?"

"Number 102. There is always a _section_ before a subsection, and in this case, it's section T subsection 4B of the Official Ministry Handbook: Celebrations Edition," Percy corrected.

George took a swig. "I'm going to order another round just to forget that you just said that." He gestured for the bartender to come over there, but then tossed a look at Percy. " _SPILL IT_ , Perce! I've not got all year! What did you tell the Minister that was so bad he banned you from making sickles by selling _The Daily Prophet?_ "

"I…" Percy sighed. "I might have told the Minister to go— _err_ —fuck himself," his ears got red.

George choked on his drink. Percy was not sure if it was because he said that to _the Minister_ , or that it was one of the rare times that Percy even swore to begin with.

"You told _KINGSLEY_ to go fuck himself? _You?"_ George replied. " _Kingsley?_ The _ONLY_ good Minister we've ever had?"

"We…" Percy gripped tightly on his glass of firewhiskey. "The Minister and I had a disagreement regarding our father. He seems to care more about our father's suffering much more than my own—so much so that when I told him about the potion abuse, he insisted that the means I am trying to achieve our father's sobriety is uncalled for. He also told me to think rationally, and I promptly had a mental breakdown so to speak. And said some… things I probably should've told my private diary, and _NOT THE MINISTER OF MAGIC!"_

He closed his eyes. Percy couldn't really owl Kingsley and let him know that the minute he left his office, he wanted to kill himself and was about to do it in the Minister toilets because of how dreadful the situation at home was.

Oh, there was the fact that he was worthless and should die miserable and alone according to his mother.

"So, he banned you from having a _job_ that actually _pays?_ " George snorted, missing the point.

Percy wondered how George was willing to accept the fact that Percy had broken down in the Minister and made a fool of himself so easily. Especially when it was one of his lowest points. Well, he thought so because only moments after, he managed to take himself out of a spontaneous suicide but not out of searing his arm off to calm down.

Yes, Percy did not consider a calming draught during times of dire distress. Burning his arm off was more sufficient.

"What are you going to do now, Perce?" there was a grin plastered on George's face. "I recommend selling your body to aristocratic blokes in Knockturn Alley! I heard that really brings the sickles back home! You know what? You could show them how good you are at-at… _ARSE LICKING!"_ George collapsed into laughter.

Percy just swallowed the last bit of hot liquid down his throat.

"Hilarious," Percy replied sarcastically. Then _it hit him_.

Percy then remembered how diligently he worked for a proper position at the Ministry. How hard he'd studied. How _much_ he'd toiled away… it felt like the world _wanted_ him to kill himself. Like it was reminding him yet again that he somehow _existed_ in a wrong way. A way that offended everyone humanly possible.

 _THIS WAS SO UNFAIR! HE TRIED HIS BEST HE'D ALWAYS TRIED HIS BEST!_

Percy felt so cheated. How could someone's existence be _wrong?_ When did his hard work turn him into this disgusting monster that nobody wanted to be around? When did people stop to wonder what kind of emotion that he held behind the mask that he held so proudly to his face? When did people start thinking that there was no mask and he was just cold and dead inside and nothing could possibly hurt him? When did his _PARENTS_ start believing this? When did his mother start to think that he'd _GET OVER_ being called worthless?

And when did that façade dissolve into a reality that he couldn't take off regardless of how many spells he used?

Percy could not even get a proper job anymore because the Minister thought that he was unworthy of _THE LAST TIME THAT PERCY TRIED TO DISSOCIATE FROM HIS IDENTITY ALL HIS LIFE!_

Percy was trying not to dissolve into tears when he realised the days he'd spent barely sleeping and eating during his exams meant nothing to _anyone._ The years that he'd meticulously looked at notes instead of going to the Quidditch games with the rest of the Gryffindor students or Hogsmeade like he'd wanted to felt like years he'd _wasted_ …

Now, he had become Perfect Prefect Percy. He could not just pretend like he wanted to do the things that he wanted to do as a child anymore. He could not even go home and sob about how badly he wanted to die because then _WHO_ would be there to pick up the pieces when his parents wouldn't take their rightful roles…?

And his mother felt like Percy was unaffected by Fred's death because he couldn't just let his family wither away into nothing. _She_ wouldn't feel that way once he killed himself a year after the battle. Let her pick them up the rest of the broken pieces that were still there even a year after Fred's death.

Percy felt a tap on his hand and noticed that Hermes was pressing his head against his hand.

Even his owl knew when he was upset. Meanwhile, George was talking to a bunch of blokes he didn't know about the funny things he did to the Hogwarts' toilets.

Percy swallowed the lump in his throat, and made it outside. When he was away from everyone and his heart was still pounding in his chest, Percy let silent, steady tears fall. He stared at the full moon and wondered if his old professor, Remus Lupin, was looking down at him right now wondering how he could've had _such a worthless student_.

After sobbing his heart out and feeling his chest ache, Percy returned to the pub. Then Percy did something stupid.

He drank a stupid amount because it was the only thing that would prevent him from telling George that _he wished he was dead_. That it wished that it had been him instead of Fred. Then he drank an even more _STUPIDLY stupid_ amount.

In fact, so much so that the last thing he remembered was taking off his shirt before he passed out.

When Percy woke up, he found himself in an unfamiliar place.

Percy could smell flowers. He was sure that there was no flowers in his flat, or Bill's house, or the Burrow – only scents of death, despair and _Magical Noodles: Cooking Noodles In Seconds – Gluten Free and All-Natural Sausage Flavour!_

He sat up and noticed that the room was in a very vibrant shade of purple. Percy saw that on Ron's face before during the Triwizard Tournament when he was being kept underwater for no real reason than Dumbledore being a lunatic.

It was a nice shade of purple really, but Percy much preferred the shade of purple that Molly turned to when she wanted to berate the twins during an extended Christmas dinner but wouldn't do so in front of her guests.

Still, this purple went with the lavender-coloured curtains, and the mauve-coloured blankets he was wrapped in that smelled—well, not unlike _Magical Noodles: Cooking Noodles In Seconds – Gluten Free and All-Natural Sausage Flavour!_ Perhaps, this _was_ Shell Cottage. And Percy had been lying unconscious in Bill and Fleur's bed, the very same bed where they had consummated their marriage… _REPULSIVE._

Percy also realised that his burned-but-healed-with-various-days-of-treatment arm was visible, and that effects of his weight gain supplement had worn off. Wonderful.

He caught sight of a pink calendar on the wall, one decorated with glittering strawberries and a picture of a bloke that looked like he could make Percy chew his own teeth without lifting a finger. Percy gawked at it.

He had been knocked out for _FOUR DAYS?_

Percy supposed that a combination of alcohol and not having have eaten in Merlin-knew-how-many-days-because-he'd-lost-count probably could render one unconscious for a few days.

All the alcohol might have dehydrated him, or he really hadn't been noticing how sparse his eating had been because when he woke up, he genuinely thought he was dead and had become a ghost. He then berated himself for being so foolish to kill himself before he mended his family—that was _until_ he realised that his heart was, indeed, still pumping. He was just… _extremely_ skeletal. All knobby bits, and sharp edges.

Percy sat up, and buried his head into his knees and tried not to cry. He _failed_. How could he let this happen?

 _Stupid_. Percy tightened the drawstrings on his sweatpants and tried to look around for his sweatshirt before a vivid memory of him being so drunk he threw Charlie's Wimborne Wasps sweatshirt in a fireplace. By accident.

He groaned and threw himself over at a big fluffy pillow. He was in a flat he did not know, and George would probably murder him the second that he saw him. Percy got up from the squeaky bed, and the door instantly jimmied open. Percy flushed when he saw a humourless Audrey walk inside and push him down. This was _her_ flat. That explained the lacy pink underpants and the black contraption in the corner that looked like it was about to attack him. And the fact that he was drowning in feminine beauty products that told him he, too, could be fair and lovely.

"Sit down," Audrey ordered. "Do you _know_ how long you've been unconscious for?"

Percy nodded his head. He had read the calendar after all. "Four—"

" _I_ don't want to hear it," Audrey snippily said to him. Percy had realised from running his hand through his messy curls that he no longer had the bandage. He had supposed that someone had realised that the big fat wound on his head was finally healed. "You're-you're… s-s- _SICK_ , Percy _. You're sick."_

"Pardon?" Percy was extremely offended.

Audrey sat down beside him, and then placed her hand on her leggings. Percy rather liked those. They had yellow triangular slices with red circles on them. It was very cheery—oh, Percy flushed. Those were _pizza_ slices. It really had been some time since he'd eaten properly.

"Percy, you're _wasted_ ," Audrey suddenly said.

Percy shook his head. "Surely four days is enough for anyone to process the amount of alcohol they've had. And if I was wasted, I surely wouldn't be lucid enough to tell you that I could organise this calamity you call a room. I—"

She grabbed his wrist, and he looked down to see how _big_ her five-foot-something-short small hands looked like compared to his small wrist. Audrey pulled his chin up and stared into his face seriously.

"I'm so sorry I have to say this in this way, Percy, but you look absolutely _disgusting_." He flinched when she used those words but then placed a hand on his cheek. It looked like it hurt Audrey to say those things too because she was tearing up. "I don't even know how someone could literally get their bodies to look like-like _yours_. Years of starvation? A terminal illness? A concentration camp? You know, you look like one of those ghostly anorexia nervosa sufferers they stamp on magazines to remind everyone of how sick they are. Honestly, Percy, I've never seen someone in my life that looks like he is about to _DIE_ from-from… emaciation! _Much less a bloke that lives right across the flat from me!"_

Percy thought she was being harsh but one look in the mirror and he realised that she really was being nice to him.

"I did not mean to worry you," he said honestly with an indifferent tone. "I apologise for that, Audrey."

Audrey just shook her head. She just shoved an old-looking sweatshirt into his hands. "And-and what is _THAT?_ " she pointed to his fully healed burned arm. "Percy, you _SCARE_ me."

"I apologise for that as well," Percy put her sweatshirt back on. It did not remedy anything.

In fact, he now looked like he was swallowed by Audrey's huge sweatshirt—which smelled like _flowers_ for Merlin's sake. This was a _women's sweatshirt_. His cheeks were so sunken into his face he did in fact look like a chocolate skeleton. When Percy had started using the supplement, he could still hide his _small_ problem with loose enough clothing. Now, he could wear a fat suit and still look like a sponsor for a dieting potion.

"Take that off," Audrey insisted. Percy pulled it off and offered it back to her. "It makes you look even sicker. The delicate colours make you look so _frail_. Honestly, if you looked any worse, you'd be dead."

Percy saw Audrey find a thick sweatshirt and throw it over at him. He noticed that it must be her brother's because it was undoubtedly huge. "Does— _err_ —my family—?"

How on earth was he supposed to mend his family _NOW?_ Percy didn't want to think about this. A nagging voice in his head was whispering in his ear something he did not even want to vaguely consider: _what if they didn't CARE?_

"George brought you here," Audrey walked back into the living room when Percy heard a knock on the door, but he could hear her speak. "He did say that when you woke up, he was going to punch you to death."

Percy smiled weakly. "He would not need that many punches to kill me."

A _failure_. He was supposed to be with _Bill_. He was supposed to be in _Shell Cottage_. Percy was supposed to somehow get to Bill and resolve their issues together—or at least get another head injury to prove that he _tried_. Percy was _not_ supposed to have been in a pub, having another mental breakdown. Why couldn't he just keep it together long enough to glue his family back together? Why was it that no matter how hard he really tried to remember to eat, he couldn't? He physically couldn't remember. It wasn't in his mind even though he knew it was vital in his attempt to look _NORMAL_. Percy felt like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders yet they were scolding him instead of trying to help him. How could you do forget to eat for days? They said, but here he was. The last thing on his mind every day when he went to bed, sometimes not entering his mind at all for days despite the stark reminders he kept for himself.

"Let's count them then," said George when he walked in. "But first! I have to say something important!"

George was wearing the most vibrant orange shirt that Percy had ever laid eyes open. It did not help that there was a cartoon of an orange on the t-shirt but the orange was… purple?

 _"I GOT CHARLIE AND DAD SOBER!"_ George yelled out in triumph. "Well, not really— _I_ had a massive chat with them. They're off to some treatment centre for the next few months _AND_ I got Bill to get off his high horse! He and Fleur are still divorcing, but he's not going to kill anyone. Ginny got mum to clean the house and Ron to stay in the house for a _WHOLE TWO DAYS!_ He's still there, hasn't left or disappeared off randomly…"

 _They don't need you_ , Percy realised. numbly _You can't mend this family. YOU BROKE IT_.

"Percy?" George leaned down to Percy's eyelevel and then frowned. "…Percy?"

"I will get started on Fred's funeral arrangements," Percy said delicately.

George beamed. " _YOU WILL?!_ Because I can't do it and I asked Gin to, but she'll be bloody ecstatic that _you'll_ do it!"

He leaned down and scooped Percy into a hug. Percy had been trying to get this family to somehow come together for _TWO MONTHS_ and Ginny and George somehow managed to do the impossible in _FOUR DAYS_.

Percy noticed the date. The fourteenth of August. He was unconscious in _GINNY'S BIRTHDAY_. What an arse he was.

Then George left him and he didn't say a single word more.

Percy just looked up at Audrey, and then stood up and said, "I'm sorry I've not paid much attention to you," Percy's guilt was burying him under a train. "Thank you for everything that you've done for me. You have gone above and beyond for someone who is practically a stranger. I am extremely apologetic I've brought you into this— _err_ —chaos. If you could think of a way I could repay you, I would be _more_ than obliged to participate."

Audrey just shook her head and cupped Percy's face—or tried to. _Err_ , not successful.

"Percy, stop it," she ordered. "You're putting so much on yourself it's actually disturbing. Trying to be a perfect brother, a perfect friend, a perfect almost flatmate. You don't have to _REPAY_ me for being a good friend."

Percy still didn't understand why she stayed. It was… _hardly appropriate_ , Percy thought with a genuine smile.


	8. Chapter 8

**this is probably the first and only chapter that is sort of sweet towards the end. your welcome. of course, before, there is a tonne of angst because this is the funeral chapter!**

 **comment replies : **

**finkles89 : oh, if i made you feel that way, then this fanfic is really getting towards where i want! and this chapter is a little sweeter towards the end, so i'm hoping that makes you smile... well, before i write 10x more angst 'cause i love it!**

 **Phoenixx Rising : "How was it so easy for them to fix things? Just because they aren't Percy, I guess." interestingly enough, i think it's because also it's coming from George. i think the five day period that Percy wasn't there is what set the mood for the story, even though it's only implied. because George is the reason the house was in such a state. i think he was so bad before that everyone else gave up along with him and haven't been able to pull themselves together after! but not being Percy is probably another reason.**

 **malfoyravenclaw555 : thank you so much! i hope that you enjoy this one. :) let me know what you think!**

* * *

 **Love and Old Black Shoes**

Chapter Eight

* * *

Percy walked into Audrey's flat on a fateful Thursday morning holding enough shopping bags to warrant him a meeting with Penelope's Shopaholics Anonymous group and two Hagrid-sized gifts in his arms – one a deep mauve with a tattered crimson ribbon and the other a perky blue with a yellow-orange ribbon.

"I didn't know Father Christmas had so many freckles," Audrey smiled sweetly.

Percy managed to waddle his way inside. "I'm not anyone's father."

"There's a sexual innuendo in there, Percy… be careful!" Audrey started to giggle. "A woman might get the wrong idea and start pouncing on you. She might knock you off your broom to wrap her arms around your manly abdominals that reek of testosterone and chest presses," Audrey joked, slapping his shoulder.

He just raised an eyebrow. "I do not _reek_ of anything," Percy said proudly. "I shower far too often for that."

"Shopping for Christmas early this year?" Audrey asked, eyes glued to the gifts.

It seemed to Percy that Audrey might be lusting after his gifts, and would be happy to receive one even if they were filled with dung-bombs. As long as those dung-bombs were pink and glittered when they imploded.

"I already finished my Christmas shopping ages ago," Percy said in irritation, even though it was only August.

Percy stiffened. He was still not comfortable walking into a woman's flat—much less a _muggle_ woman's flat.

He was in one of his favourite Ballycastle Bats sweatshirts today and the baggiest pair of sweatpants that he owed. It was the only way he possibly could've made himself go out today.

He had a nice day out spending money he barely had.

Unfortunately, a muggle bloke thought that Percy was trying to sell some illegal muggle substances. Fortunately, Percy knew how to 'phone the police' because Audrey told him that it might be important just in case anyone stole his 'enchanted stick' (now, _that_ was a sexual innuendo… _not_ his proclamation of how he did not have any off-springs!).

Unfortunately, the 'police' asked him, "Are you serious?" and then 'hung up on him.'

Percy made a mental note to soon ask Audrey how to phone the government.

He placed the gifts down on her shockingly pink couch, the one that did not look out of place in the Quiberon Quafflepunchers' flat. Percy did not talk to Audrey much about her preferences (mostly because Audrey did not know how to shut up when she started talking), but from what he saw, this woman was obsessed with _anything_ feminine.

Her coffee mugs had sweet messages about how he 'could do it'!

Percy would need three books just to attempt to decrypt what ' _it'_ was. Ride a broom? Eat a biscuit? Burn down the flat? He wouldn't know because the blasted mug wouldn't tell him!

And-and there were _FLOWERS_ in the bathroom! Fresh, hand-picked, _REAL_ flowers!

Even worse, just look at him! Going into a muggle woman's lavatory! How uncouth and unbecoming! At least Percy tried to remedy this by closing his eyes and pretending he was just going to the small lavatory in Madam Malkin's.

He collapsed just beside the gifts, and buried his head into her fuzzy, feathery pink pillow. Percy was knackered and beside himself. He was going to kill himself in a year and he still wouldn't allow himself a luxury of a big, fat massive lie-in even when he was proven to be a useless, floating vessel that seemed to greedily suck oxygen out of the atmosphere! And _why_ did he have to walk up seven flights of stairs?

It wasn't giving him any quad definition. Well, in the stairs' defence, they did give him the _gift_ of asthma!

He placed his hands on his hips and then stretched his back like he was Dumbledore doing a little bit of yoga in his grave. Percy rolled his eyes, and then tossed a look over at Audrey, who was still gawking at the big boxes.

"You know, the gifts go with my theme," Audrey said, brown eyes glossy. "Maybe you should keep it here."

"I am planning to," he picked up the purple box and then handed it over to her. "Happy birthday."

Audrey was surprised, and then opened her mouth—probably to tell him that it was not her birthday until tomorrow.

Percy then shook his head, and pulled his hand up. He pulled a note out of his rucksack, and pushed his glasses up his nose. "I went to your mother's house yesterday for a cup of tea and found the appropriate documentation. You celebrated your birthday on the nineteenth of August every year, but in fact, you were born on the eighteenth of August. In fact, 11:59:59 pm on the _EIGHTEENTH_ of August. So, _MY_ version is far more correct than yours."

Audrey looked stunned. "You went to my _MOTHER'S HOUSE?"_ she shrieked. "And did you just tell me on when _MY_ birthday correctly is? I don't think there's a man on Earth that would even—"

"Yes, we had tea and a little chat," Percy explained. "She confessed to me some things that I believe you would like to hear, such as the fact that your father misses you deeply and she's sorry for everything she's said to you. She was afraid of losing her husband and unfortunately, put all that stress and pain on you even though you did not do anything wrong. She would like to remedy this situation over a wonderful Sunday roast. I accepted on behalf of you, and will be dressed for the occasion at seven pm this Sunday to go as your loyal companion."

"That… that sounds like my mum," Audrey confessed and then hugged him tightly. "Percy, you're wonderful!"

He stiffened and then just shoved the gift into her hands. She avidly opened it. It was no surprise to him, or even to her that it was the shiny new Vitamix blender that Percy couldn't use to save his life, much less attempt to make whatever dairy-based health food concoction that she did all the time.

Audrey squealed in excitement, but paused when Percy dug into his pants and pulled out a tiny box.

"Is that an _engagement ring?"_ she asked with big eyes, and Percy could've choked on air.

"We aren't even together!" Percy replied, but Audrey just blushed and took the box.

Upon opening it, she pulled the small little necklace with a little biscuit charm. She wore it immediately. It went with the rest of her pink-purple-flowers-rainbows-stars-and-sunshine themed clothes and flat… and life.

 _"THANK YOU SO MUCH! I LOVE IT!"_ Audrey turned to hug him again, but this time, he just ducked from her arms. He had enough hugs during the last few months to last him a lifetime. _"HEY!"_

"That's enough for now," Percy stood up tall and proud and sighed deeply when she chose to attack him with another embrace. If he was the joke type, Percy would cover himself with a slick liquid that would prevent anyone from touching him without falling flat on their faces. "Very well."

Percy was just glad she wasn't scolding him for using the weight gain supplement again.

He had thrown himself headfirst into Fred's funeral arrangements. He felt largely under pressure.

It had been a week since, and George did not even lightly hint at Percy's weight or the fact that he was heavily supplementing again because he did not want to look at his own bony arse.

Whenever it even entered Percy's mind—and it seldom did even with him trying his hardest—to consume something other than copious amounts of coffee or tea, Percy opened his fridge to look for something to eat.

So far, he had _thrown away_ six cases of red grapes covered in white chocolate (he'd covered them himself with melted white chocolate), five full-fat cherry yoghurts, and one half of a block of full-fat cheese that had gone mouldy.

Then yesterday, he had weighed himself and saw a number so ghastly and sickening that it slapped him back to reality.

Yesterday, Percy managed to eat five cases of red grapes covered in white chocolate, five big cherry yoghurts, and half of a bloke of cheese that he hated. The next morning, he was even less hungry than the other day but the first thing he did, even before he took a shower was sit down on his couch and eat the rest of the cheese that he loathed so much he wouldn't feed it to Scabbers (what _did_ happen to Scabbers?) whilst Hermes just sat there, laughing at the faces of disgust that Percy was making as he ate. In the shopping mall today, Percy bought himself an enormous brick of salted caramel pistachio toffee and ate it after his light lunch of tomato-basil soup with saltine crackers because when he asked a saleswoman for a smaller size for their jackets, she just snidely told him that they didn't have clothes for people 'his size' and then pointed him towards the children's section. Percy was despondent and completely and utterly humiliated. He didn't want to come out of his flat ever again—and this was _with_ the supplement!

"I'm making jacket potatoes with tuna tonight for dinner," Percy suddenly said. He had bought enough food today to last him through another wizarding world war in hopes that his stinginess wouldn't dare let him let food rot in the cupboards. "Would you like me to bring some for you to eat?"

Audrey looked at him suspiciously. He felt a little stab in his heart.

"You eat _your_ food," her cheery mood was gone. "And you should really stop using that supplement."

Percy was getting tired of hearing her say that.

"So _you_ could tell me I look disgusting?" Percy snippily replied to her before he flushed. He did not mean to say that even though he meant it. "I'm sorry. _That_ was uncalled for. I take it back given that it is your birthday—"

"—tomorrow," Audrey cut him off and stared at him with a surprised look on her face. "I'm not going to sit there and clap my hands when you walk around looking like a reanimated skeleton—"

"— _Inferius_ ," Percy corrected. "There is such a thing. It's called an Inferius and I do _not_ appreciate being called one."

Audrey didn't appreciate that comment. "I'm _not_ going to watch you undo yourself and let you just try and hide it!"

Percy opened his mouth. He had wanted to tell her about this for a long time—the feelings that he had, but it felt wrong. He felt so _defeated_. At this moment, Percy had let himself believe that he was dying of a terminal illness and in ten months, he _must_ be dead no matter what. At this point in time, Percy felt like admitting it to someone was selfish. Because it brought the attention back to him, and he didn't feel like the attention ever left him since he'd walked into the blasted battle of Hogwarts. This day was for _Audrey_. Not him. Audrey and…

"What's the other gift for?" Audrey asked with less enthusiasm, pointing to the big blue gift.

"Ginny," Percy replied. "Her birthday was on the eleventh and I did not get her a gift. I have been searching through the wizarding stores for something appropriate for the past week as I've been attempting to arrange Fred's funeral—which for some twisted reason, Ginny booked to be on the twenty-second at seven am."

The universe was having a laugh. The _twenty-second_. Yes, on his birthday, he had to go to a funeral. How appropriate.

Fortunately, Audrey didn't ask his mother when his birthday was, so she just nodded her head very seriously and said, " _I_ don't like waking up in the morning either."

It was a few hours afterwards that Percy got to the Burrow with the gift in his hands.

Percy hadn't really been to the Burrow in ages. He'd been too busy feeling sorry for himself that George and Ginny managed to do more things in four days than he had managed to do in two months. Still, the family needed stitching back together and although Percy was sure he did not actually know how to sew a stupid bloody thing, he wouldn't stop trying. At least not for the year that he had.

Percy had also— _err_ —arranged _his_ own funeral along with Fred's.

He checked the pricing, found the cheapest coffins and burial grounds possible for himself and wrote them in a tiny notebook so that the family did not have to arrange much for his funeral.

Percy would've booked the damn thing as well if it was not so suspicious.

The past two days, Percy had bought himself the biggest collection of books surrounding grief and how to help someone dealing through grief. He had made multiple notes regarding the issue and spent all day going through them this morning to ensure that this visit to the Burrow would go by successfully this time.

Percy was so ashamed of himself. He didn't _TRY_ hard enough to hide the fact that he was in shambles.

Unfortunately, he knew he could not hide behind the supplement forever.

 _"YOU STOPPED USING THAT SUPPLEMENT—GOOD!"_ was the first thing that Audrey said when she walked outside and saw him in his full skinniness, holding the gift that he had packaged for Ginny. _"I HOPE YOUR MOTHER ISN'T A BITCH ANYMORE… MINE ISN'T! THANK YOU FOR COMING TO DINNER YESTERDAY AND TELLING MY MOTHER MY BUSINESS SCHOOL GRADES… OH! WE'RE HAVING TEA TONIGHT! IT'S WONDERFUL!"_

Percy knew better this time around. He would be the best brother he could be if he died trying.

He knocked on the door to the Burrow when he (happily) noticed that the door was unlocked. Percy was wearing a pair of Bill's sweatpants and sweatshirts—Kenmare Kestrels, which was Bill's favourite Quidditch team. At least they were better than the blasted Chudley Canons. It was like Ron picked the team that had the least talent in the world!

Opening the door to his chagrin was Bill, who looked surprised to see Percy there but not infuriated.

 _Wow_ , Percy thought to himself. Bill's eyes were almost—dare he say it—a kind blue. _Have I got the wrong Burrow?_

"Hey," Bill said, stepping aside so that Percy could walk in. Ginny and George must've done something to Bill that made him forget who he was. Percy slowly walked right in, feeling his heart clench into his chest as he smelled his mother's warm honey oat bread rolls coming out of the oven. "Wow, I haven't seen those clothes in _YEARS!_ "

Percy looked down at the green-yellow sweatshirt he was wearing. He looked like was ready for St Patrick's Day.

"Are you—" Bill cut himself in the middle of his sentence and then said, in a soft voice, like he was afraid to break Percy into a thousand pieces. "Are you alright?"

Percy could see George and Ron playing chess on the ground whilst Ginny was napping on the couch.

"Yes," Percy replied in a soft voice. He turned to face Bill and noticed how guilt-ridden his heavily manged face was.

Bill's eyes were trailing down Percy's face. He supposed that all that seven-flights-of-stairs climbing he didn't pay off like he had wanted it to. Percy felt uncomfortable, and Audrey's words about how disgusting he looked was ringing into his ears, making him feel self-conscious. If Bill wanted to say something about his appearance, he certainly didn't say it. Percy hugged the box closer to his chest when Bill moved to take it away.

"Hey, hey," Bill placed a hand on Percy's shoulder. "It's alright. I'm not going to hurt you."

Percy didn't know why he needed to hear that, but he let Bill take the box away from him. Percy stiffened even more when he watched Bill move closer to him and wrap his arms around him, hugging him tightly. "Hey, hey."

He tried not to, but Percy dissolved right into Bill's arms.

By the time that Percy was feeling like he might cry, Bill broke the embrace so that he could go to the kitchen. Percy slowly stepped inside the Burrow, staring at it with shining blue eyes filled with disbelief.

He grabbed a blanket folded on one of the loveseats, and then placed it over Ginny's curled up body on the couch.

Ron was glaring at him and George lit up when he saw him.

 _"PERCY!"_ George ran up to him and then wrapped his arms around him. It had been two months and that was two months of horror. Now, everything was the same as it always had been? Percy didn't know how to feel. A mixture of euphoria, agony and confusion. "You look _AWFUL!"_

"Thank you," Percy said in a quiet voice, but did wrap his arms around George. He didn't know what to feel.

"Git," said Ron from where he was sitting. At least he didn't attack Percy. "Mum's making dinner."

Percy nodded his head, and slowly walked towards the kitchen where he caught sight of Molly humming and Errol (where had Errol been all this time? _That_ was a good question) staring at the big pot of soup that she was cooking along with rosemary chicken thighs and banoffee pie. Percy walked closer to her as she turned around, holding a giant chopped salad bowl that she dropped promptly after she saw Percy.

He dropped down to the ground and called out a _"Reparo."_ The bowl was salvaged, but he threw the salad away.

"It's alright," Percy said, cleaning off the water off the floor with a spell. "Nobody in this household eats salad."

Molly was staring at him like she'd seen him for the first time in years. Her skin was a ghastly pale, and she looked like she didn't know what to do. The honey oat bread rolls sat on the table, and their warm smell wafted to his nose.

Percy ran his hand through his curly hair, and looked away from her.

He sighed and pulled his arms out, since everyone was so obsessed with hugging him the past few months but his mother didn't even move forward to hug him. She just stared at him with vacant dark brown eyes. He moved to the stove and turned off the pot because the soup was boiling. Percy took a mouthful of his mother's soup, and raised an eyebrow. He added more salt, pepper and oregano before he took another mouthful of his mother's winter vegetable soup—which they were having smack in the middle of August. Heaven. He looked at her chicken thighs and realised they needed a bit more to be done. His mother was now tasting her soup, and nodded her head numbly.

She was staring at the new wallpaper in their kitchen, the one that made him have heart palpitations when he asked for how much they cost. Percy sat down beside the bread roll basket.

"George told me that you were arranging the funeral…" Molly paused, leaning against the counter. "Fred's funeral."

Percy was shocked. She hadn't said his name in the last two months.

"Yes, yes," he said, coming back to reality. "Ginny booked a venue for the twenty-second at seven am. I finalised the arrangements for it but. I could not pay for the proceedings, but I will reimburse Ginny shortly considering I have gotten my job at a— _well_ —small building specialised in unremovable fine arts and controversial beauty."

Molly stared at him with confusion. "…Madam Primpernelle's Beautifying Potions?"

Percy's face went red. "No, they would not hire me," he mumbled. "Markus Scarrs' Indelible Tattoos."

Work was the worst. Percy honestly couldn't wait to get out of there the minute he walked in. His shift seemed to last _days_. He nearly did not want to get his paycheque because he was tremendously afraid to be mugged on his way out—and Percy practically sprinted out the first chance he got. Percy also did not like the policy that meant that employees could not carry around a wand because it 'made the customers feel unwelcomed' when they walked inside, face covered in tattoos and piercings in unholy places. Oh, and the manager last took a shower in 1988.

And for the first time in his life, Percy savoured his lunch break—cowering underneath his employer's desk, whilst eating a few stale dark chocolate biscuits out of a tin because he wasn't sure if the customers would 'feel unwelcomed' if Percy brought his own sandwiches to work.

"Hey," Bill walked into the room, then his upbeat voice changed into a softer one once he saw Percy was there. "Gin told me she booked the funeral for the twenty-second. I… I owled Charlie and Dad and they're coming home from the facility for that day. George wrote a speech and thought we should all wear orange and purple—like their shop. The one that's closed down since the war, but I think it's appropriate."

Percy slowly nodded his head. He placed his hands on his knees.

Very little was said that night as they ate their dinner silently.

This didn't feel like it originally felt—there was a huge chunk missing, and he didn't know if it was Fred, or the fact that his father wasn't babbling about some muggle contraption he just found whilst Ron and Ginny fought over something menial. The way that Bill kept looking at him made him feel extremely uneasy.

Two days passed and Percy didn't sleep much and didn't eat much at meals. He was busy sitting in his room, wondering what to do with this emptiness that he was feeling in his bones and his body.

Percy wished he could say what he remembered he did the past two days but he didn't.

He listened to his family talk about the funeral, and George say what he wanted to do.

Percy was pretty sure that George didn't want to do any of that. He was sure that George just wanted to come home from the funeral and pretend it didn't happen. He was already getting more teary-eyed and screaming more often. He held George through multiple panic attacks, and he threatened to hop in the coffin with Fred a few times.

Percy tried to console him as much as he could. It was _hard_.

On the dreary, sad morning of Fred's funeral, Percy turned twenty-three years old. He was wearing an old tattered purple t-shirt he found and a pair of orange Chudley Canon sweatpants. The purple t-shirt was so big on him that it had a huge gap at the chest and served to only show his visible chest bones. Wonderful.

He looked ridiculous, but he supposed that it worked.

As he walked downstairs, Percy felt worse because he remembered that Fred had left him _everything_. He wished he could skip the whole day, but he went downstairs where his whole family was ready.

Having have just showered, he felt somewhat better than he would've.

Percy gladly faded into the background for the rest of the day. He was not sure how it all felt like. The service felt like it started and ended abruptly—and yet so _slowly_. All he knew was that he didn't want to listen to stories that Lee Jordan or George or Ron or anyone else had about Fred but he tried to.

Percy tried to listen _so bad_ , but he felt like his head had just been stuffed with cotton and Puffskeins.

He wasn't thinking about anything then. He just was physically there, but he felt like he was floating at first, and then he felt like he was drowning or choking on something invisible. Then he was suffocating and his heart was pounding _but he still wasn't really there_. Percy wasn't sure how he had gotten there in that room or why these unfamiliar clothes felt baggy on his body. He didn't know where there was a hole in his socks. Percy was sure that yesterday he was sitting in an office, slaving away at reports and drinking copious amounts of coffee. And now he was here.

Percy wasn't sure how many people had cried. He hadn't counted. Maybe he should've.

He wasn't sure how many times George had threatened to burn down the whole place then follow with a laugh that felt so empty that Percy felt his chest ache. George's voice was watery, and he ended up breaking down and sobbing so many times. At some point, Percy walked up to George and took him to the nearest seat, telling him that _it was going to be okay_ and _it was going to be alright_. Percy was not sure what he was saying, but he was so used to saying it that George just nodded his head and buried his head into Percy's shoulder.

Percy wasn't sure when George's breakdown occurred. He was just sure it happened multiple times.

He wasn't sure if people should've let George talk in Fred's funeral. It seemed to give him more pain than comfort.

Percy wondered if he should say a few words, but he wouldn't know what to say.

The burial was worse. Percy helped. He had never been one for manual labour but the coffin felt weightless almost as he helped carry it with Bill, Ron and Charlie. It was hard to believe that Fred was in there.

It was even harder to believe that they were carrying twenty years' worth of physical memories, love, hatred, days, nights, holidays and little things that Percy never got to appreciate or realise down to the ground. Percy would hear Fred talk again. He never have a holiday with Fred again. He would never see Fred get married or fly a broom again. He would never scold him for not doing his O.W.L's or N.E.W.T's ever again. He will never see him laugh and smile again. And Percy didn't feel any pain upon realising this—first, he wondered _why_ he was still alive.

Then he wondered if he _was_ alive—because it felt like he was a ghost of a ghost of something that was probably never there. He could barely remember what kind of shoes he wore, or what the sky looked like before they left that morning. He couldn't remember what kind of colours he liked, or what was his life ambition all along. He didn't remember what he needed anymore. Percy was numb whilst everyone sobbed with a reckless abandon.

He didn't really think that Fred was in that coffin, even though he'd seen it with his own eyes.

Fred was somewhere else. Percy felt like he was somewhere safe. And he _hated_ Fred for being safe.

The coffin felt more real than Fred did. It almost felt like Fred didn't exist that day—and the world was always this thick, and bleak though Percy couldn't say why. He wasn't sure what to do afterwards, but one moment, he was staring at fresh flowers that were going to eventually die and the next, Percy was back at his house. He was sitting in the ground in the living room with his family. They were barely eating the pumpkin pasties, purple sweet potatoes, orange juice and blocks of Cadbury chocolates that George had spread out for them all and kept on talking about for some reason. They Burrow was noisy with George's babbling and also silent because Percy remembered none of it.

Percy could remember waking up, but he couldn't remember falling asleep. He couldn't remember anything they said, or anything he thought of that day. Every moment was a stark realisation that he was somewhere else.

At some point, Percy was surprised at how his heart was still beating. He almost thought it was precious—if just for a moment that he could hear his heart in his chest, pounding away into the next oblivion.

He hadn't really left the living room since they'd come back from the funeral around noon.

Percy felt a little better after his nap, but he wasn't sure _what_ he was feeling before. When he woke up, he had George's head on his shoulder. Red-eyed, red-faced George that probably cried more today than he had in his whole entire life. Percy wondered when he decided to sleep but it was late right now. It was five in the afternoon.

But things felt more real than they did this morning.

Percy somehow forgot that George was sleeping on his shoulder so when he wiggled a bit, he'd woken him up.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Percy honestly said to George. "I'd forgotten you were sleeping."

George shook his head, and then sat up straight. "You did a great job… planning Fred's funeral," he said. Percy was not sure if to take that as a compliment. "I like the fact that the coffin nearly blinded me. I know I said purple and orange, but I didn't really say _florescent_ and _make-me-wish-I'd-lost-an-eye-not-an-ear_."

Percy nodded. "I apologise," he said in a soft voice. "It was the only paint I could find in such short notice."

He thought about apparating for to Diagon Alley to get himself an extremely small birthday cake—or really a birthday cupcake because he didn't think that anyone would be celebrating with him tonight. Percy tried to pretend that it did not bother him as much but he felt like a birthday celebration was exactly what he needed to get his mind off such things, especially because this will be his last. Percy felt particularly vulnerable.

However, today had to be about what _George_ needed—he who had multiple breakdowns and anxiety attacks. Percy thought at some point, George stopped breathing for about three minutes. Percy's needs should just shove off.

He got up to his feet. Ginny, Molly and Arthur were just coming downstairs.

Ginny looked like a wreck, and not unlike the elated girl that he saw just a few days ago. It made his heart sink.

On another note, Ginny absolutely adored the new Quidditch robes he gave her, since hers were not particularly good quality. The sexist arseholes at Quality Quidditch Supplies wouldn't give her any proper ones on account that she was a _woman!_ Didn't need top-notch robes! Percy wrote an angry owl to the manager that would most likely be ignored.

In the same league where a whole team was made up solely of _WOMEN!_ One of the most _SUCCESSFUL_ ones in fact!

He also might have mentioned that Ginny could knock him out just by looking at him and the only bicep curls Percy ever had to do involved him pulling a quill to his mouth when he wasn't sure what to write. Even _that_ he didn't do with proper form! Percy didn't _need_ top-notch Quidditch robes, so why could _he_ buy them? It didn't help that they existed in his bloody size. The only size they came in seemed to be Peruvian Vipertooth!

"I'll get a takeaway," Percy suddenly said, only earning nods from the rest of them. "Is Creative Culinary Cauldron's Chinese, Curry and Coffee a good idea?" they replied with another round of nods.

"Get really strong coffees," said Ginny with a watery voice. "With firewhiskey in them."

Percy stiffened but then slowly shook his head. "Charlie and our father have a substance abuse problem. I hardly think that it's appropriate," he said this. He then met Arthur's eyes, who gave a nod instead of a long chat about how he didn't have a problem and how they were all monsters for chucking them into the facility.

He felt like there were so many unsaid words in that room and the silence was becoming too deafening to handle.

Creative Culinary Cauldron's Chinese, Curry and Coffee was particularly empty today. Percy had gotten a bit of everything—Thai, Indian, Japanese and Chinese curries, mountains of fried rice and white rice, and coffee for everyone—which he shrunk down into microscopic little cups, and charmed them to prevent spilling.

Percy didn't get back home immediately. He went into a store and sullenly bought himself a massive cupcake with _2_ and _3_ birthday toppers stuck on top. It was a plain unfrosted chocolate one that cost him very little money.

He went back home but didn't walk into the house. He hid behind Arthur's shed with his cupcake, staring at the sky.

Percy put the takeaway boxes down and sunk to the ground, holding his little cupcake. He'd lit up the toppers at the store just to feel better. Yes, he was carrying Merlin knew how many bags and a lit-up cupcake for the past fifteen minutes. He placed the abnormally large cupcake on his lap and just stared at it with an emptiness in his chest.

He let hot tears fall down his cheeks, and his shoulders shake. Percy let out a few sobs.

"Oh no," the second that Percy heard his father's voice, he stiffened and started frantically rubbing his tears away because this was just ridiculous. "It's your birthday today… I… I forgot."

Percy didn't look up at Arthur. He was afraid his father would see the waterfall of tears.

Arthur sat down beside him, placing a hand on Percy's knee. "Can I see it?" he gestured towards the cupcake.

Percy offered the monster cupcake to Arthur, who just inspected it. He pushed his glasses up, and Percy shrunk. He always felt strange—his father was a thin man with the same height as him and wore big glasses. Percy didn't feel like a child next to him anymore. It was a feeling that made Percy feel like he shouldn't be sat here, thinking about how sad it was that Fred's funeral was at his twenty-third birthday. That he should just bloody _suck it up_.

Arthur snuffed out the candles with his wand, and just stared at the cupcake.

"Come on," Arthur demanded. Percy grabbed the takeaway bags and walked back home with Arthur. "Let's go in."

He watched his father throw his cupcake away and felt his heart ache even more.

In the Burrow, they all ate dinner together. Whenever George finished whatever was on his plate, Percy put some more of his own on there. George looked like he wanted to bitch at him for it, but didn't given the circumstances today. Percy was so glad that he didn't because he didn't know how to take it anymore. He didn't need any more reminders about the fact that his hand was ghastly skeletal or that his jaw was sharper than most wand tips.

He ate about two bites of rice and three of a Thai curry before he decided that he didn't want anymore.

Fortunately, nobody pressured him to eat anymore, and Percy was glad because he was not sure if he would be able to take the criticism from anyone today. It would be too much for him.

He missed his cheap cupcake a _lot_.

When they were done eating, Percy walked outside again and got his cupcake out of the bin. Because that was completely sanitary and in character for him to do so. He was disgusted at himself, and he felt ashamed that something this trivial was bothering him so much. Oh well. Percy will eventually get over it.

He walked back behind the shed and just sat there with it again. He didn't bother lighting it up like before.

Percy wasn't sure how long he sat there for, but he didn't feel alone enough to let himself cry. He did for a few seconds, but had to wipe it away in fear of being found out again. His chest hurt so much and he could barely breathe because his heart was racing. Percy heard a sound from behind him and nearly jumped up when he saw Arthur appearing again from out of nowhere, holding a box into his hands.

"I just popped down to the shop for a better one," Arthur said, and Percy's heart just ached even more because he didn't know that his father threw his cupcake away because he wanted to get a much better cake product. "What are you doing with that one right there? Didn't _I_ toss it in the bin? Wait, _did you take it out of the bin?_ "

Percy opened his mouth. "Well, I'm not going to _eat it!_ " he yelled back. "That would just be foul."

Arthur laughed as he sat down beside Percy again. Percy wanted to shy away but didn't.

His father cleared his throat and said, "Percy, about what's happened after Fred's death, I… I'm—"

 _"WHY DIDN'T WE GET A PARTY INVITATION?"_ George sounded a little perkier than he did all day. Percy wondered if that perkiness was fake or real half the time. "Hey, Perce, we were looking for _YOU!_ "

Ginny looked at him, holding a box herself. "Perce, I didn't… I didn't _intentionally_ book the funeral on your birthday! It was the nearest opening and-and I thought we should do it as soon as possible since we've been delaying it and—"

"What is everyone doing out here?" Molly cut in, holding a box herself. Ron, Bill and Charlie there too. That was probably enough cake in here to start their own shop. Of course, said shop would specialise in the gaudiest, most dangerous cakes known to mankind. Bill sat close to him, so now he was sandwiched between the father that told him to shove off and his brother that gave him a giant head injury. Percy was chuffed. "Percy! _I_ was looking for you!"

Percy raised an eyebrow. "I didn't realise I was so sought after."

"Shut up, you arsehole," Charlie said with good humour, giving his ankle a slap. Percy had never had his ankle slapped before. He didn't know if he should be worried or not. "Happy birthday."

"Thank you," Percy said in a confused, weak voice. "I—"

"It's stupid really. I just—I was looking at the calendar today and this smallest thing just circled on there and I couldn't believe myself. I am _so_ beside myself," Molly said. She opened the box, and the sweet smell of sliced banana and homemade toffee made its way to Percy's nose. "Sweetheart, I'm _SO_ sorry."

Some part of Percy knew that she didn't just mean for somehow forgetting what date it was. He just knew.

"Yeah," Ginny got on her knees and opened her box up too. Percy didn't think he saw that a cake that looked like that since he was six—covered in enough sprinkles, squirty cream and chocolate to make even Mr Flume sick. "Sorry."

Arthur opened his box up too – and it was just like the little cupcake he had in his hand. Except for the fact that it was a gigantic chocolate cake and covered with so much frosting that Percy couldn't make out Arthur's untidy birthday wishes scrawl. Giant _2_ and _3_ cake toppers that looked like they were going to explode any second.

For the first fifteen minutes, all they did was take pictures. Ron was especially annoyed by this.

"Here," Arthur placed the cake closer to Percy. His cupcake was forgotten now, but his hand still covered in crumbs. Percy was pretty sure that he was happy but felt the guiltiest for it. "Make a wish and make it a good one!"

Percy leaned closer and before he could blow out his candles, the cake toppers did actually _EXPLODE_ and Percy ended up with a face covered in frosting and cake. George had collapsed into the ground, in a fit of laughter.

Arthur was red. "I didn't—I mustn't have—"

 _"I DID!"_ George exclaimed in excitement as Percy took off his glasses in annoyance and tried to wipe them off.

"I did _NOT_ wish for that!" Percy yelled, and George just smirked because he was crawling over to Percy.

Percy reeled backwards, as he was being hugged tightly by George, who was covered in cake and ruining Percy's good—well, they weren't _good_ clothes but George was still ruining them. _"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, PERCY!"_


	9. Chapter 9

**sorry about the wait! i had finals recently. i have a new rotation now in my university, so i am hoping that i can update more now that the loom of exams are out of the way. and before that, i had an extremely busy week, finishing really late at night and waking up extremely early. i will try to edit the next chapter as quickly as possible, since it's already been written!**

 **comment replies:**

 **K.J. Bollinger : yes, i'm wondering when the next sweet moment is... this fanfiction is so hard to write nice moments like that into. thank you!**

 **LoonyLovegood1981 : don't speak too soon... it's only chapter 8 ;) and thank you so much! this comment made me smile... no crying involved however.**

 **Dr. Blueneck : if you've been crying, i've already accomplished what i set to do in this fanfic! i hope this makes a Percy lover out of you. i really think that he's a misunderstood character, though i am extremely biased. i hope that you enjoy the next few chapters just as much. your feedback has been incredible. :)**

 **Grin like the Cheshire Cat : i found it somewhat funny, somewhat sad and somewhat worrying as well... oh dear, Percy. **

**Guest : oh no, this is nowhere near over. we're in still in November! this does a complete turn around to July... and a bit more (i will explain in the next chapter. or rather Percy will)! **

**finkles89 : we're actually halfway there in this chapter. i believe that post funeral, things are always happening quickly and like... time passes quicker, so i wanted to reflect that in that chapter. the next chapter is also a somewhat skip ahead. but we still have 7 months (also explained in the next chapter, but to give you a hint, it's because his method of planned suicide requires 2 more months than he anticipated.) :) **

**Phoenixx Rising : i love that you used the word 'pathway' in your review! i love it. and also, i'm glad that you enjoyed the chapter. **

**second Guest : thank you. my God, i really hope to update this quicker now!**

 **Alphinss : i'm glad that you find Percy and George also well-written. it's so hard to explain other people's emotions and what they do when the whole fanfiction is from Percy's POV (except for the beginning chapter which was in Audrey's perspective.) i really am hoping to elaborate things with other people too in the next few chapters! i'm so glad to receive this review.**

 **you guys' reviews have been amazing. a real incentive to write, write, write.**

* * *

 **Love and Old Black Shoes**

Chapter Nine

* * *

"Oh, Percy, you're too kind," Mrs Brown said. Percy was not sure what he was so kind about. All he did was attempt to stomach the most terrible minestrone soup known to mankind. "Most people would've fed it to the dog."

Percy was now suffering indigestion. "Thank you for the lovely meal."

"Lovely meal he says!" Mrs Brown looked over at her daughter, Audrey, who was just staring at her uneaten bowl as if it was about to come to live and attack her. Ever since she figured out about the world of magic, Percy had noticed she'd been treating her mother's cooking like it was a cauldron waiting to explode. "This one's a keeper!"

 _I do not play Quidditch,_ Percy wanted to tell her but instead he smiled and hoped that the raw macaroni inside his stomach wasn't the reason his stomach was in more loops than a confused Chaser.

"I'm going to go put on some tea," Mrs Brown wandered over to the kitchen.

"To digest this meal, I'd need more than just _some_ tea," Percy ran his hand through his hair. Like about a Great Lake's worth of tea, followed by a dozen cases of antacid potions and multiple prayers to Merlin as he sat on his knees.

Audrey smiled sweetly and then whispered, "You _could've_ just cooked it with your wand."

"It is not as easy as you make it sound," Percy whispered back. "But now that I've eaten your wonderful mother's—pardon me— _atrocious_ cooking, I wished that I could've cooked it."

Percy didn't want to think about the impending explosion of trying to cook with his wand whilst a muggle woman went on about how she hoped that she'd been trying to lift weights at the gym but couldn't go above— _well_ —four stones due to a back injury. Percy was sure the only way he could lift four stones was if they were _literally_ stones. And not the big ones either. Her husband, a man that seemed to be always tired even though he was always asleep, waved at Percy as he left for work. Audrey's father considered him a part of the family when he politely ate his wife's minestrone soup. When his wife wasn't looking, Audrey's father snagged a few grapes, made a piece of toast with low-fat margarine ('doctor's' orders) and then sprinted to his job.

"Percy!" Mrs Brown walked over to him, with a pot. Audrey just mouthed something she read as 'she wants to adopt you' which made Percy blush. "Am I keeping you from your college studies?"

Percy just shook his head. "I am not currently studying. I do, however, have a job," he then felt comfortable enough to add on, "I used to work in the government but unfortunately, had a political argument with a very important man. So, I am now doomed to jobs that don't pay more than minimum wage unfortunately. I currently work at a very shady tattoo parlour because it's the only place that would take me. Fortunately, I did look up their certifications and I don't seem to be doing anything illegal so to speak. It doesn't help that I still feel extremely uncomfortable."

Mrs Brown seemed shook by this. "You're _joking_ ," she said humourlessly. "That's not fair!"

"It's politics," Percy shrugged and sighed deeply. He noticed Audrey wasn't thrilled by the news either.

Audrey told her mum to get some biscuits with the tea, and when Percy was about to tell her that was a strange thing to do – _order her mum to get biscuits_ , he realised she just wanted them to be alone.

"You shouldn't take that!" Audrey said, and he was staring down at her perfectly painted nails. Did she always look flawless? It was kind of unnerving. "Tell them to fuck themselves."

" _That_ was what got me into this mess!" Percy replied with another sigh. She seemed pleasantly surprised.

Three rounds of biscuits and five of tea later, Percy thanked them and left to go home with a belly full of the world's worst bowl of minestrone soup and biscuits. He had put some weight back on, but the last few stones were so _difficult_ to put back on. Percy genuinely believed that he had to become a competitive eater just to put his weight right back on. The problem was he had no appetite whatsoever. Recently, he'd lost a few more after a bad spell of depression that left him not wanting to leave his bed for more than a few cups of tea and the obligatory dinner.

He went to Diagon Alley that day. Percy placed his hands into his pockets and listened to birds twittering away.

When he was flipping through new books that he didn't feel like reading.

Even though a year ago, he thought to himself that he'd give _anything_ to be able to buy a book, sit down a tree near home, read and then when the sun set, he could have the leisurely walk back home, contemplating the plot in his head just in time for them to sit around and have dinner with his family.

Percy thought that now things were better, he would stop feeling the way he did.

In fact, he just felt _worse_. Like… he had no purpose whatsoever.

Percy thought that there would be end to the nights he woke up at three in the morning and had panic attacks that lasted for hours, ones that usually ended with him holding a cup of tea in shaking hands, staring outside until dawn broke. Percy thought that those days where he woke up completely paralysed and unable to even contemplate going to his kitchen for a cup of coffee were gone. He thought that when he visited the Burrow, there would be daisies and roses and everything would be back to normal by now.

But sometimes, nobody had done the food shopping for weeks, and dirty plates were stacked on top of one another.

There were takeaway boxes and bug infestations that Percy dealt with on a semi-regular basis. Sometimes, he went upstairs and saw that George decided to just sleep in all day, only waking up to sit by his window in his boxer shorts. When he'd see Percy, there were days where he'd wrap his arms around Percy and sob into his chest, telling him that everything that was wrong and days where he told him to get out and screamed obscenities towards him. Sometimes, Percy would find out that his mum had been finding it hard to get out of bed again for more than a few hours and hadn't changed the robes that she'd been wearing for days. Sometimes, Percy would see that Ron hadn't been in home for weeks, or that Ginny was sending threatening letters to Bill because he'd said something unforgiveable. There were days where Bill wouldn't have left his work to go home until very late because he didn't want to face Fleur. Sometimes, he found Ginny sitting in the kitchen alone, sobbing. Sometimes, he'd wondered if Charlie and his father were ever going to come home, even though it had only been two months since their departure to the facility.

November just started a few days ago, and Percy was not sure what to feel.

The funeral had left him feeling so defeated and empty on the inside even _weeks_ afterwards.

It felt like he was still processing that the funeral had already happened to this day. He felt like he needed a few more months just to accept the fact that Fred was _dead_ and in the ground.

There were even some days where Percy walked inside the Burrow, passed by the Weasley family clock and paused to stare at it. He'd wonder where Fred's hand was at before the cold, sharp reality hit him that Fred was _gone_. There were some days where he'd leave the kitchen and practically hear Fred screaming at George not to do something stupid upstairs. It echoed faintly in his mind, Percy was afraid that it would get fainter and fainter.

He was afraid that he'd forget how Fred _sounded_ like. Or looked like. And no, he did not look exactly like George.

Percy was afraid he'd look at photos and not be able to tell who was who anymore. He was afraid of completely forgetting how _special_ Fred was, and how much of a great Greek tragedy it was to lose him so young.

All this fear and the Sorting Hat still placed him in Gryffindor. What a _joke_.

Percy put the book back, only for him to hear a voice he hadn't heard in a few months. "Percy?"

He turned around to see Penelope Clearwater standing there, with little Nolene's hands holding a Puddlemere United toy of her own father. Oliver Wood was standing there like the conceited, lovable arsehole he was, almost quaking underneath the weight of the enormous stack of books that he was carrying.

"Penelope," Percy noticed that she looked less like herself than usual. Her hair was growing out a little, but she was dressing like a bloke which was very unbecoming of Penelope, who usually dressed in the most revealing clothing to attempt to feel more comfortable with her own body. "I believed that you were both… separated."

"No," Oliver said in a stern voice. "We talked it out. Something _you_ should've done."

"So, I'm supposing that if Penelope was the one that cheated on you, you'd _talk it out_ then?" Percy acerbically replied, and Oliver looked like he'd been slapped at that accusation. But Percy knew and Penelope probably knew it down there too that the only reason he said those words was because _she_ was the one being wronged—and not the other way around. "You best behave yourself… I hope that you're sweeping her off her feet in a feeble attempt to make her trust you again. She deserves that much at the very least. Mind you that _I_ say that and _she_ cheated on _me_."

"It was a mistake and we were in the middle of the war," Oliver replied, taking a deep breath.

"Yes, I'm perfectly aware. A war fully explains why your knob ended up slipping into a woman other than your wife. I suppose it was the Death Eater's fault, wasn't it?" Percy's face lacked amusement.

Oliver opened his mouth to reply to that but he couldn't.

Percy felt smug, as he put down the book that he was holding. He watched Oliver and Penelope walk away. Little Nolene ran right after them, and Percy felt a pang in his chest watching her get lost in all this madness.

In his mind, Percy could almost remember how it was to be fourteen years old, scribbling his third version of Potions notes because version one and two was not concise or accurate enough when he looked up and saw Penelope, this sunny-haired Ravenclaw that used to stay after Oliver Wood's games to gush about how strong he was... troubling.

"I like you, Percy," Penelope said in their first altercation ever. "Um—uh… will you be my boyfriend?"

Percy just looked up, and blushed deeply. She laughed nervously and shuffled through her feet. His ink made a huge blotch on his paper, but he hadn't really noticed.

"Well, if you would come back in thirty minutes, I can give you an adequate answer," was fourteen-year-old Percy's natural response. He pushed his oversized, horn-rimmed glasses up his long, freckled nose and said, "I need to produce a coherent pro-and-con list for having a girlfriend this year."

" _OKAY!_ But take my quill when you're writing your super important list!" Penelope seemed to understand, offering him a shiny, unicorn hair quill that was dripping with pink. "It's _lucky_."

Percy accepted this gift. " _Err_ … thank you. I always— _um_ … liked it when people torture unicorns for school supplies."

"I'll be back in thirty minutes like you said!" Penelope yelled. "Do you want a Cornish pasty? I'll get you one. Maybe you can add that as a _pro_. Girlfriend buys you Cornish pasty… this is so exciting!"

As she left, Percy realised how uncomfortable he was. Everything smelled like flowers after she left and he had unicorn ink all over his paper. This was a disaster. Do you know how hard it was to get unicorn ink out of paper?

And he didn't want Cornish pasties. They were far too fattening and he had put on too much during the holiday.

At the end, Percy decided that putting the end to the rumours that he reproduced asexually was more important than his fifty-minute yoga slot that was _not_ helping him achieve inner peace or reducing his anxiety.

When Penelope came back to him in exactly thirty minutes (punctual! Something that Percy could appreciate), he accepted her offer and she immediately hugged him and crushed his ribs. There was Cornish pastry all over the library! What in Merlin's name did he get himself into? He hadn't planned this to happen _this_ year!

 _"LOOK, GIRLS! I TOLD YOU I GOT MY VERY FIRST EVER SMART BOYFRIEND TODAY!"_ Penelope yelled out.

Percy shushed her. This was a library! But there were cat calls and whistles everywhere and Percy was thoroughly embarrassed, the only thing that he could hear was Penelope's sweet giggles.

When Madam Pince walked to shush them, Percy fell on his knees in apology. Penelope found this funny.

"…I-I don't even want Cornish pasties!" Percy said in his monologue to Madam Pince. "I'm on a _DIET!_ "

He realised soon afterwards that having a girlfriend meant more than having her around for a singular hour of his day. Percy could not work her into his schedule, and it was mildly irritating. So every day, he put fifteen minute slots randomly throughout the day dedicated to the possibility of running into Penelope.

Mostly it was her running into him, throwing him to the wall and giving him a snog.

"This is hardly professional!" Percy would yell, his scrolls all over the ground, as they snogged in an empty hallway.

She'd snog him until his mouth was red and he was _almost_ late for his class. But Percy was never really late to class. He just ceased being fifteen minutes early, so he was only on time. Which meant to Percy that he was _LATE_.

At first, Percy was thoroughly ashamed to admit this, his fascination with Penelope was mostly because she had _womanly bits_ that he hadn't seen on anyone before. He wasn't fascinated with having a relationship with her as much as other things. He was still a bloke, even if he was more refined in his tastes.

Fortunately, it seemed that Penelope had a similar notion about him. Most of their more-so romantic engagements were after hours, exploring each other in abandoned classrooms.

"Is that a tattoo?" Percy shrieked when he saw a small tattoo on Penelope's upper thigh one day. It was a little flower.

Penelope just looked down at it. "Percy, it's a _temporary_ tattoo!"

Percy just stared at her with a confused look on his face, and then launched into how he was sure that her father would not be pleased if she knew that she was getting tattoos that temporarily faded before she went home. Penelope groaned and leaned back. She probably said _it's a sticker_ three times in one minute.

Percy had not intended it to be much more than that even though he was officially 'together' with Penelope during this time period. He had no interest in her beyond her indulging him—not just physically but mentally as well. He wasn't an animal after all! They had intellectual debates that went on for _days_.

"The Ravenclaw Quidditch team is thoroughly awful. I absolutely loathe the Gryffindor Quidditch team, and I have my suspicions about Harry some days, but even then, I can attest to the fact that you will lose," Percy said… _intellectually_. Because this was an important topic. He just bet ten Galleons that he didn't have on a Quidditch match.

 _"I can attest to the fact that you will lose,"_ Penelope mocked him, and then attacked him. She tried to tickle him. Percy did _not_ have a tickle spot. He was _that_ boring. Really. In fact, he was so boring he mentioned that he didn't have a tickle spot _twice_ now because this was the most entertaining thing about him.

"Penelope! People are-are… watching!" Percy yelled. " _HELP!_ I am being-being… assaulted!"

"I love you, Percy," Penelope told him, and her voice was so sugary sweet that Percy became borderline diabetic.

 _No_. Percy thought with horror. He did not like Penelope in that way. He did not _love_ her.

After a year of causal on-and-off sex (depending on the amount of homework and essays they had to hand in) and continuous owls during the summer regarding the ancient uses of different charms and animals and peculiar ancient runes, Percy found himself developing… _feelings_ for her. He was not _sure_ at first, so he consulted three guides in the library that had told him that, indeed, he _may_ be infatuated with her. Percy brewed an _Amortentia_ potion and felt a little ill when he could smell Penelope's— _err_ —he did not want to say. At first, Percy was appalled at his own behaviour and attempted to do some form of aversion therapy where he associated Penelope with something entirely unpleasant, like Snape. This did nothing for him, except make him blush whenever he saw Snape.

He doubted his professor would find it professional of him to imagine him whenever he wanted to… _err_ , cool down.

Percy then started to have nightmares. About—about _marrying_ her. And having a _life_ with her. It was horrible!

He didn't even have a life on his own! How could he have a life with a girl? Percy couldn't sleep in fear that one day he'd wake up, look down at his life and discover to his horror: _he did not get all 12 O.W.L's like he'd planned_.

"I made you cheese toasties for you to eat before your exam!" Penelope told him one day, holding three giant cheese toasties and he ate every single one of them. Percy then projectile vomited at the end of his first exam—Transfiguration—from nerves, and yet the day was good because she came by later with stomach-soothing potions.

It was also good because McGonagall gave him an extra mark for attempting to transfigure his own sick. It was apparently a _very_ hard task.

Percy overworked himself after his first exam. After he excelled in his studies, he made plans with Penelope.

Their relationship blossomed. Percy should have found it somewhat suspicious that a beautiful woman with a wonderful sense of humour and intellect decided to choose him as a suitor. Their relationship was budding before, but soon, Percy found himself wondering what she was doing when he woke up in the morning to get dressed. Even though he knew that she was probably, too, getting dressed in the morning to get to class (and putting on temporary tattoos on her thigh, Percy thought with an eye roll). Percy was thoroughly fascinated by the amount of ribbons that Penelope owned ( _note_ : far too many) and had even wondered if he had to use protective spells or potions considering that Percy had planned to stay with her for a very long time.

Then she began the intense questioning. In the middle of them snogging, she'd break off their session.

"What is it?" Percy wondered if the stomach pain that she had been complaining of had gotten worse and Percy had to rush her to St Mungo's because his beloved was suffering from appendicitis.

Penelope blushed deeply. "Um…" she then looked at her feet. "What's Oliver Wood's favourite underpants?"

Percy was confused at this question. "The ones that are on the floor," he mumbled in annoyance. "Why are—?"

Before Percy could finish his sentence, Penelope had gone back to snogging him. Really. He was breathless.

After that, Percy began answering all her questions regarding Oliver Wood and did not find it suspicious.

His favourite breakfast? Well, that bloke eats _everything!_ Percy couldn't bring anything back to their dorm because it would miraculously disappear the following day. What about what Oliver did before he went to bed? _Err_ … Percy was _not_ answering that, but he could hear Oliver and it was foul. How many times a week did he shower? Minimally, Percy emphasised his annoyance considering Oliver was always covered in mud.

And the questions only increased in time. Percy was convinced she was writing a book about Oliver Wood.

Yes, he legitimately thought that Penelope was writing a book about Oliver Wood. It wasn't _that_ odd. He was famous after all! Why else would she be interested in what kind of things that he did with other women? Or what he liked? Percy did not like him at all, but he did live with him. He knew a lot about him—much to his chagrin.

Still, it didn't bother him. After all, they got a flat together after Hogwarts. Percy was thrilled… for the most part.

"What is this product that you're putting over our bathroom sink?" Percy shrieked, noticing all the pink that was in his bathroom. He was throwing brassieres and colourful bottles to the ground. "Penelope, I am _A MAN!"_

When she accepted his proposal? Percy was stunned.

 _Literally_. Percy actually stunned himself to make sure he was not dreaming.

He had abandoned all his sensibilities and threw caution to the wind. Percy was essentially fully himself around her, his pig-headed, neurotic self that nobody else could love _but her_. A few months into them living together—him in the Ministry kissing arse and her in St Mungo's trying to extract Pygmy Puffs from children's rectums—and Percy eschewing protective spells, Penelope told him something that made his heart stop.

"Percy," Penelope was eerily placing her hands on her nearly flat stomach. Percy found this strange. "I…"

"Am hungry?" Percy said, moving his face away from the pot of roast potato stew that he was making. "Yes, I am aware. So am I. But I do not hold my belly into my hands and then rub it in circles—"

"I'm pregnant," Penelope cut him off.

"Some people might get the misconception that…" Percy paused mid-speech, and realised what she just told him. "Oh," he realised, and then felt very faint. It was the lack of blood sugar he insisted, as he ended up flat on the floor.

Yes, he was… _err_ … floored.

Percy could still remember the swell of horror _('I can hardly take care of myself! How am I supposed to care for a CHILD?')_ followed by a warm, pronounced joy when he really accepted the fact that he was going to be a father! He was going to read his little baby stories about great men and how they were _all_ prefects before they were great men! Percy was going to get those very accurate nappies that measured urine output by the hour so that he knew when his child was going to go into renal failure… it was going to be _wonderful_.

He spent his breaks in the Ministry looking for adequate baby names.

On a warm Tuesday night, he decided the name Dexter was nice.

Then his dreams were shattered when one day, he came back home and walked into his room. Penelope had a giant suitcase open and was stuffing things into it as fast as humanly possible.

Percy paused, because he had come home early. He had the baby book stuck under his arms, along with a few child development books but he dropped them the minute he saw that his fiancée was obviously packing to leave him.

"Percy," Penelope's voice was soft. "I didn't… you usually don't come home for another two hours. I…"

"Penny," Percy's voice was scratchy and confused. "What is this?"

Penelope moved towards him and placed her hands on his shoulder. "You weren't supposed to be here," she said in a wobbly voice, tears streaming down her face. She was decently pregnant now, almost ready to pop any moment.

"I don't understand," and for the first time, Percy just didn't think he wanted to know… _she was rejecting him_.

"I'm a coward. I didn't want to stay long enough to have a conversation with you. I was going to send you an owl when I…" Penelope paused for a moment, taking a deep breath and moving to place her hand on his shoulder. She breathed in the smell of his ink and parchment paper for the very last time. "I don't want to hurt you."

Then why did Percy already feel this stabbing ache in his chest?

"I always thought that you were narcissistic and absorbed but…" Penelope placed a hand on his cheek. "You're so sweet even when you're being cruel and you mean well and you're a git but the most lovable git in the world and-and-I… I don't want to hurt you, Percy. I'm sorry. I'm _so_ , _SO_ sorry."

Percy didn't understand what she was saying but he was holding her tightly, not wanting to let her go.

"Penelope, what is going on?" Percy asked. She flinched. He hadn't called her _Penelope_ since they moved in together.

"When I got together with you, it was because I thought that if Oliver Wood saw me with you, he'd be interested in me—and then ask about me... But I didn't know that he hated you. If I knew, I wouldn't have asked you to be my boyfriend. But you were _SO_ sweet, I didn't want to break your heart so I stayed together with you for two years," Penelope babbled and Percy's head was already spinning. "We didn't do much talking. We just slept with each other—it sounded like an alright arrangement! I thought for sure that you were going to find another girl, but-but then you started to develop feelings _FOR ME!_ You called me… you called me _PENNY!_ "

Percy could feel his heart beating in his chest. His world felt like it was crumbling.

"And… oh Merlin, Percy, I wanted so badly to love you the way you loved me. I-I accepted your invitation to get a flat together. I accepted your proposal. I thought that if I just waited a little, I'll fall in love with you too but I couldn't let go of my obsession with Oliver," Penelope continued. She was talking quickly. He barely had a second to catch up. "I just… I just kept on asking you questions about him. I couldn't help myself. Then a few months ago, I went to one of his games, and one thing led to another and… I'm-I'm-I am _SO_ sorry, Percy."

"He's not mine," Percy realised. "He's Oliver's."

Penelope shook her head. " _She's_ Oliver's."

Percy just stared at her with a vacant expression. _"She?"_ Percy's heart warmed up for a second before he felt it completely smash into a thousand little pieces. He felt himself grow numb.

Just as she turned to go back to packing her things, he grabbed her wrist and just shook his head.

He packed his things that night without another word. Percy wasn't sure how he managed to do all of this without breaking down into tears. He had shrunken all his things down, and put them into his rucksack.

Just before he left, Penelope ran to him, and grabbed his hand.

"No, I…" Penelope slowly produced a small unicorn quill from her hand, shining and glittering. It was new, and she had barely used it really. "I want you to have this. It's… it's _lucky_."

He didn't feel very lucky… Percy slowly accepted this gift. She stood on her toes, and kissed him one last time.

"If you need anything, I…" Penelope laughed lightly. "You hate me, don't you?"

"I think the problem is that I _don't_ hate you," Percy replied in an indifferent voice, when he felt like his world was crumbling and nothing would ever be okay ever again. "Goodbye, Penelope."

Recalling this made twenty-three-year-old Percy feel this emptiness in his heart. He still did love her somehow. He loved Audrey too, and he was not sure how he fell in love with these women that had unicorn quills for hair and sang with high-pitched voices that made his chest tighten.

After his unfulfilling trip to Diagon Alley, Percy made his way to Shell Cottage.

He felt very small nowadays. He just walked down and found himself in the mirror. Even dressed the way that he used to, he did not feel like that very important bloke that everyone should respect. He felt like a fifteen-year-old bloke that was yelling for his voice to be heard. He felt like that twenty-year-old Percy that was clutching that unicorn quill in his hand, as he sobbed in the snow. He wondered why he kept on being rejected.

Percy noticed that Bill was lying on the couch and he looked angry. When he saw Percy, his facial expressions softened—and this was a stark improvement over the last few times.

He sat down beside Bill, trying to ignore that Bill had his feet on his own coffee table.

"Hey," Bill swallowed the lump in his throat. "I… um... I didn't know that you could apparate into Shell Cottage."

"You have a very predictable set of charms on this house," was all that Percy replied with.

They didn't say much. They stayed there in silence, with Bill just staring at Percy every now and then. When Fleur walked downstairs, Percy watched Bill pretend like she was essentially invisible. She looked paler and thinner than she was when Percy last saw her—which was a feat itself as Fleur was a slender woman.

Percy walked to the kitchen with her after some time. "I'll make you something to eat," he told her.

Fleur nodded her head, and sat down at her chair. "You are ze one zat left ze family?" she asked, and there was no malice in her voice. Her voice sounded teary and she looked tired, like she barely slept these days. "Percy… yes?"

"Yes," Percy replied with a curt nod. He rummaged through her pantry and set himself the goal of making her a sandwich—a thick, buttery sandwich with full-fat cheese and mayonnaise judging by the state of her. His heart clenched in his chest, as he realised that he was smaller than her when he was forced to stare at his thighs. _Merlin_. That was a disturbing thought. Percy dropped the knife that he was holding in his hand and blushed deeply.

He peered into her fridge and then assemble a gouda sandwich—between butter, with slashes of mayonnaise.

If she didn't agree to the way he made her sandwich, Fleur didn't complain. He toasted them up until they were hot, and offered her the plateful. Fleur didn't object as she stared eating whatever was on her plate. She closed her eyes and was savouring her first bite. Percy sat down just beside her, his hands on his knees.

"Why?" Fleur suddenly asked, and Percy felt uncomfortable. "Why are you leaving ze family?"

Percy saw Bill stand by the door, leaning against the doorframe.

"I… it isn't important," Percy decided, his voice low. "It was a mistake—a terrible, _terrible_ mistake."

But it wasn't a mistake. He had left the family because of reasons that felt legitimate to him. Just because he didn't agree with Dumbledore, his parents thought practically thought it was the most blasphemous thing that he could say. He had done everything right. He had said all the right things previously, did all the right work and forced himself to confirm into this person that he did not recognise. This person that would just become him… they made him like this. They made him like this the minute that his mother told him that he had to follow the rules or he would _DIE_ during the war. Now, breaking any rule made Percy feel sick because he was breaking the law.

Percy did not do as much as eat biscuits out of the biscuit tin before dinner in his own house. Even if he didn't want to eat dinner. He always waited until his parents finished off with dinner or it was tea time before he let himself eat any.

"You are telling me ze truth?" Fleur didn't believe him.

Percy turned his head away and nodded his head numbly. "Yes. I made it quite clear during the war what I feel about my own foolishness," but he always wondered if his family would bother to tell him that they were wrong as well.

Sometimes, Percy didn't feel like he was wrong at all. He may have been cruel, but he did not think that his reasoning was completely skewed as they made it seem. Percy felt like this cartoonish villain, this big fat git that nobody should ever aspire to be. Then this little piece of him remembered how many times he'd been rejected. He remembered the days where he watched his mother tell him that she was going to give the last cake slice to Ron, even if he'd already had six and Percy hadn't had a single one and he had to pretend it didn't bother him because he was mature. But Percy was a _child_. Even now, he still felt like a neglected and unloved child. Yes… he _loved_ victimising himself.

"Good," Bill said from the edge of the doorframe. "Cause you were a git," he didn't even glance at Fleur.

"I did not make it clear that I think that you two are being foolish with this divorce," Percy honestly said.

"Well now that you made it clear, we want to tell you that it's unfortunate that you think we're being foolish," Bill said, his voice getting colder. Percy knew that he was prodding the blood-thirsty dragon whilst it was out of its cage, but he knew that it was for the dragon's own good that he heard this. "Did _you_ tell your wife that she doesn't understand how painful it is to live because she's _pretty_ , _hasn't_ lost Gabrielle and _hasn't been mauled by a werewolf?_ "

Percy flinched when he heard that, but then he swallowed the lump in his throat.

"Percy is only saying zat _YOU_ are not letting me talk for myself!" Fleur replied hastily, standing up so abruptly that the plate and table started to quake. "You are deciding on zis divorce! I have _NOT!_ "

Percy was surprised. He did not know that the divorce was Bill's idea. He was under the impression that it was Fleur's!

Percy looked over at Bill, stunned. "I didn't tell my hypothetical wife such rubbish, but if I did, then I would be listening to how _SHE_ assesses the situation! _YOU_ have certainly lost that right! And I…I had no clue that apparently, the divorce is not _her_ idea—that makes this situation _even more_ ridiculous than I thought!"

Fleur slowly nodded her head, and stared down at her feet.

" _Assess_ this situation? What?" Bill spat back acerbically. "The situation and the solution is simple. _I_ will not let my wife be belittled by anyone anymore. Not even myself."

She looked like she was close to tears. "I don't want to leave! _I_ love you!"

Percy's head was spinning. "Bill, if you do not want your wife to be belittled anymore, then perhaps, _YOU_ should stop belittling her!" He could see how scared Fleur looked like at the thought of losing Bill. "You need to learn how to control yourself! You cannot just keep pushing people away because you're scared of your own shadow."

"Why not?" Bill replied icily. "It works wonders for a little coward like you."

Somehow, even though that comment was not the worst that Percy had heard, it stabbed him right in the heart. Perhaps, today, Percy was sensitive to just about any comment that anyone would tell him. Fleur must've sensed this because she walked to Percy and wrapped her arms around him.

" _I_ may be a coward, but I am the only one that was bold enough to discuss this with you," Percy calmly stated. "We could help you, but only if you help yourself first. Fleur's wishes are the most important thing in this predicament and _she_ does not want to leave your volatile arse. You should be counting your lucky charms, because most women would've left you. We know that you are suffering and in pain _AND_ she's willing to give you a chance, but why is it so hard for _YOU_ to give _YOURSELF_ the chance to mend this relationship?"

"Because I botched up too bloody much, Perce," Bill looked frightened now, like a sad, fat Kneazle caught in a very tight spot that he thought that he could get out of. " _You_ wouldn't understand."

Percy raised an eyebrow. "I wouldn't understand? Me? The bloody Head of Mucking Up Situations Department?"

 _"YOU?_ I can't bloody think of a situation _you_ mucked up!" Bill suddenly yelled out. Percy opened his mouth to speak, but Bill continued yelling. "What? Are you going to mention the fact that you left the family?"

Percy slowly nodded his head.

"You had the bloody right to leave," Bill replied, and Percy was stunned hearing that. Was he _dreaming?_ "We've been arseholes to you. You were the one that always got the short end of the fucking broom and everyone acted like it was normal. You didn't muck up—except for when you hadn't visited our father in the hospital and when you sent mum her Christmas sweater after you slammed the door in her face. But that were the _only_ two wrong things that Perfect Prefect Percy has ever done in his life."

Percy smiled weakly, but he was too shocked to reply. Were those heart palpitations? Oh my.

"But bloody hell, did you make it up after!" Bill said, shaking his head. His eyes were blurring with tears. Percy had never seen him like this. _"I NEARLY SPLIT YOUR SKULL IN HALF AND YOU HAVEN'T DONE SO MUCH AS TELL ME I'M A VIOLENT ARSEHOLE!_ Do _YOU_ think you deserve to get your skull split in half, Perce?"

"No, I did not," Percy replied softly but he really wasn't sure. He couldn't say this to Bill and then in another world justify the fact that he deserved to have his arm seared off by his own wand. "I wouldn't split my greatest foe's skull in half, much less a family member's cranium... I'd rather write a strongly worded owl instead. Subtlety at its best."

Bill chuckled, but it wasn't because he found what Percy said funny.

"You didn't muck up, Perce," Bill said in a soft voice. He sounded like he was tired of yelling. " _We_ mucked up."

Honestly, Percy didn't expect this today—or ever. That was the thing that he had needed to hear all his life _so badly_ , that he wasn't just some big genetic malformation that deserved to be prodded at. It was so reassuring for Percy to know that he really had always gotten the short end of the broom, and that his efforts were not going completely unnoticed to his whole family. Percy cocked his head to one side, wondering why Bill had to be so emotional for him to admit all this. He wondered—if he didn't come here today, would Bill have said any of this _at all?_

Bill wrapped his arms around Percy, pulling him away from Fleur's embrace and into his own. Percy had lost count of the amount of times that people had hugged him since Fred's death. Perhaps, he looked particularly huggable these days. _How terrible!_ Percy thought he was too skinny to be a comforting presence.

"You stupid, big-headed bastard," Bill said, and Percy felt that warmth again. He wished Bill would mention that he noticed that Percy was struggling so much and that he was scared that Percy was going to do something bloody stupid. "Nobody said anything about this because they don't think that they mucked up. But _I_ know that we did."

"Zis is why I want to be with you," Fleur suddenly said, breaking into the moment. " _I_ want to give you another chance. I don't want zis to end. If I wanted to go, I would tell you. I want you—I _need_ you to stay."

"I don't deserve you," Bill said, but all Percy could think of was himself right then.

His high had plummeted into this strange low, because he had realised that nothing would really change after this.

Maybe with Bill, but he'd still come home to a family that had their plates stacked high, and he'd try to clean it up and they'd accuse him of not caring about the fact that Fred was gone because he bothered wiping the cupboards and making sure they didn't live in a swamp. But now, it hurt so much more because he knew that he had been right all along. He deserved better. It hurt to know that people didn't remind him of this.

"No, you do not," Fleur agreed. "Right now, you do not deserve anything from me and you never will if you act like you always have. But you could be good enough for me again. I know what kind of person you are, but you are _so_ afraid of being weak, it is killing everything around you. You are trying to be too strong and end up being cruel because you have zis idea that you should have zis big façade in front of me—but it is killing you inside. It is poisoning everything we have made."

Bill broke the embrace between him and Percy. "I…"

Percy suddenly felt like a little child seeing his parents make up, and being left alone with a bunch of discounted toys whilst they go out and celebrate with a bottle of firewhiskey.

"I was so afraid that I'd do something so unforgivable that it'll make me I'd lose you forever, that… I tried to speed up the process because I felt as if I could…" Bill shook his head. She smiled and moved closer to him.

Percy didn't know the rest of the dialogue because by then, he had decided to disapparate away from Shell Cottage. Simply because he wasn't needed there anymore.


	10. Chapter 10

**this chapter had to be re-written many times, and the ending was hard to write. there was something about it that was really just... it got to me. hopefully you feel the same thing too. this is another big time skip. in the last chapter, November was beginning and in this one, it goes towards the end of November instead. but for the next few chapters, time will hopefully slow down! :)**

 **i also want to say that i will write comment replies for the chapter after because i am not feeling well!**

* * *

 **Love and Old Black Shoes**

Chapter Ten

* * *

"Hey, kid," Marcus was staring directly at Percy. No, this was not Markus the owner of the tattoo parlour, or Marcus Flint, the intellectually disabled student that only made an effort to learn colourful hexes – but Marcus Scarrs, the _son_ of Markus Scarrs. Yes. It was confusing, but Percy did not really care for such semantics considering he was too busy wondering why he was _not_ in his bed that extremely fine Monday morning.

"You're scaring the damn customers, walking around looking like you've inhaled the whole of Obertelli's Eating House! Nobody needs any post-war flashbacks from any raspberry sauce you have dribbling down your chin _AND_ they're asking _ME_ if your lunch breaks are never-ending!" in all honesty, Marcus did not give Percy long-enough lunch breaks in his opinion. After seeing enough gore to last a lifetime before ten in the morning, Percy believed his lunch break should extent from twelve that day to twelve the following _week_. "It ain't good on my reputation. I already have enough problems with stupid people claiming that they get these infections from my tattoos— _I_ don't even sell 'em! I sell some pretty badass tattoos… _BUT_ they should be bloody glad they got that Staph infection _FOR FREE!_ "

"Yes, sir," Percy replied, trying to pretend he didn't hear any of what he just said to try and preserve his brain cells.

Marcus grunted. Was there a requirement that all blokes named Marcus look like they all consumed steroidal potions and had a questionable level of intelligence? Percy wondered dully.

Truth be told, his bottle of _CHUBBY MUMMY'S WEIGHT GAINING SUPPLEMENT: WE MAKE YOU LOOK LIKE YOU PUT ON WEIGHT FOR A WHOLE 72 HOURS_ had a very unfortunate catch.

Apparently, chronic use had a very small side-effect that Percy had even missed on the fine print…

Chronic use made you bloody _HUGE_ for the time that the potion was taking effect. Those 72 hours? _A nightmare_.

So now, _without_ the potion, he looked like he was about to die of starvation and _with_ the potion, he looked like he was about to bulge out of his clothing—like a sausage stuffed in its tiny casing. Percy did not know how to deal with this horrifying train wreck that he'd put himself in. He had gone from being impressively underweight sans potion to breaking the elastic off his sweatpants two nights ago after taking two bloody drops of the cursed thing!

Percy supposed that it was one of the lesser evils. He'd rather look like he _always_ ate compared to the fact that he oscillated between eating ridiculously small amounts for days down to eating whole banoffee pies and silky chocolate mousse cakes because of how disgusting he _actually_ looked like— _again_.

Percy had no idea how to remedy this situation, but he supposed that he'd send Marcus Scarrs – _and_ Markus… _and_ Marcus Flint – to the hospital due to heart attacks if he decided to come to work with his— _err_ —'natural' appearance.

"You know, ever since we got you as a cashier," Marcus said, and Percy flinched because the word cashier sounded so… unimportant. He would rather be called The Exclusively Exclusive Currency Supervisor and Advisor, "I've been making more money but I've not been having more customers than usual. That's a mysterious thing."

"It is not at all mysterious, Mr Scarrs," Percy replied in a monotone voice. He wondered if there was a Dementor around because this job sucked the soul out of him. "I just do not steal out of the register like your previous workers."

"You _don't?_ " Marcus looked shocked at the notion that there were workers that did not steal his property. "Wow, kid, you got some balls on you. For that, I'm going to keep your pay the same _but_ I'm going to stop smacking you in the face with it because I respect you. Hell, you're the new employee of the month. Everyone should look up to you."

"It's difficult for most not to," Percy's voice was still indifferent. "I am over six feet tall after all."

The bloke guffawed like he'd swallowed one of George's Laughing Lollies... not yet on the market because the shop was still closed. And there was a minor side-effect of rats accidentally laughing themselves into a coma.

"Hey, Percy," one of the girls there, a young, black-haired girl by the name of Rochelle, moved to place a hand on his shoulder. "If you want to take a lunch break, you _can_ you know. I bought an extra sandwich if you want something."

He gawked at her. "Miss Lamb, I assure you that I do not need a lunch break at _eight in the morning_."

Percy even took an extended lunch break yesterday. Unfortunately, he just did not use it efficiently. You see, bawling in the toilets was hardly an appropriate use of his time.

"Aren't you _hungry?_ " Rochelle moved closer to him, and Percy was sure that Rochelle had a feeding fetish.

"After this conversation?" Percy's round, freckled cheeks went red. "Certainly not."

"Oh, I should've phrase myself better then," Rochelle had taken the cheese, tomato and ham toastie out of her box and shoved it to his chest. "Take a bloody break, Percy and _go home_. It's not even your shift today! Oh, and I know that you've been taking that stupid weight gaining supplement from Primpernelle's... You spend like twelve hours of the day here and I only ever see you eat crackers! _HOW_ did you put on four stones on that regimen and how is everyone convinced that you could put that on in _TWO WEEKS?_ Do people really have no understanding of biology?"

"It is hardly professional to leave in the middle of a shift," Percy said sternly. "And they are _highly_ calorific crackers."

Rochelle then told on him, and Percy was kicked out of his job. So much for professional. Marcus Scarrs mentioned something about Percy overworking himself on purpose so that he could sue them. Percy scoffed.

If he was going to sue the tattoo parlour, it was for nearly blinding him with their kitschy body ink collection!

As he made his way to his house, Percy felt a heavy exhaustion weigh on his little body.

Ever since the confrontation with Bill and Fleur, Percy had lost any shard of determination that he had to even attempt to keep himself glued together by his weak little threads of _okay_ -ness. He had planned to be dead in less than half a year, what was the _bloody point?_ And how was it that time just seemed to pass by so quickly?

When he thought that days had passed, it had been _weeks_. He was consistently unaware of time.

Except when it was eight in the morning and people were telling him to go have a lunch break. Nutters.

He swore that just yesterday, Percy was at Fred's funeral. Just yesterday, he was the youngest junior assistant to the Minister for Magic. Just yesterday, he was trying to make sure that Fred and George didn't eat biscuits before dinner.

Just yesterday, he didn't even exist and there was only Bill and Charlie and the world was safe and warm.

Well, being at work certainly slowed it down. Percy hadn't fully recovered from the day that they accidentally poked a bloke's eye out and rendered him blind. And they still charged him seventy Galleons for the job—which he paid in full, and he seemed rather happy about the eye-poking incident because now, he could have a particularly dangerous sounding nickname and could make an elaborate story about how his eye wound was really a war wound! _Ridiculous_.

Typically, Percy worked behind the register, crunching numbers most of the time and very far away from the site of doom. Unfortunately, this was not far away enough from being subjected to the more horrific tattoo experiences.

Despite so much time passed, all Percy had to his name right now was an _Employee of the Month_ plaque in Markus Scarrs' Indelible Tattoos and a fridge full of mouldy food because he'd kept on threatening Hermes with the spicy snacks that made his stomach upset when he'd tried to remind Percy to eat more than once every three days. Until he had a mental breakdown and consumed kilos of mouldy Greek yoghurt.

As he came to his flat, he had been surprised to see Audrey just standing there with an assault of bright purple shopping bags and glossy totes that reminded Percy that he could get a two for one deal on nail polish.

Percy did think that his finger beds were looking anaemic these days. Perhaps, he should take up that offer.

He tried to be as quiet as possible. How embarrassing. He chronically abused his weight gaining supplements because he was worried about what his employer thought of his protruding clavicles. But honestly, Percy was aware that without said potion, he looked worse than ever. Without the potion, Percy felt like he was almost in the nude. He was suddenly aware of every fat cell that _should_ exist but had melted off when he'd shoved down four cups of tea and called it dinner for the fifth time that bloody week.

Apparently, his one-man Fast for Fred campaign did not seem to help bring Fred back from the dead... pitiful.

As he turned to unlock his door, he could practically feel Audrey's eyes on him. Percy turned to open his door, and looked up to see Audrey pulling her bags protectively around her. Percy ran his hand down his neck because he felt like he looked like he'd once been engaged to the Fat Lady many eons ago.

Her face then melted into excitement and then she _beamed_ at him. "Percy, you are _SO_ cute!" she shrieked.

Percy's cheeks coloured in and the only thing he could blurt out was, _"I EAT CALORIFIC CRACKERS!"_

Audrey giggled, before she wrapped her arms around him. "You put on a little! You have this adorable little belly!"

 _"Little?"_ Percy echoed. Fine. He might admit that he was exaggerating his weight gain slightly.

To him and to his work place that saw him balloon, he looked like he was the gigantic blueberry that he had once seen in a muggle film starring a poor child that ended up in a chocolate factory (which did _not_ exist much to Percy's chagrin.) To everyone else, he was a normal sized bloke that had a somewhat soft middle and giant arse.

"Yes, it's _so small!"_ Audrey then did something that Percy thought was _horrifying_ —she cupped his belly into small fistfuls into her pale hands, and he stared at her in pure horror. "And I love it! Percy, do you want a milkshake? I can make you once with brownies, and dark chocolate! I can even put squirty cream on top!"

"Brownies?" Percy echoed in horror. "I look like a candidate for muggle bypass surgery!"

" _BYPASS?_ What makes you think that?" Audrey was making him deaf to boot. "Let me guess… you had to buy a _MEDIUM_ for the first time in your life instead of the non-existent size that you usually wear?"

Percy's cheeks coloured in. " _Err_ … that is correct."

She rolled her eyes but then she looked like she remembered something. She moved away and smacked his arm. Percy did not understand how Audrey shifted between emotions so _quickly_ because one second ago, he was 'cute'.

" _OH MY GOD, I JUST REMEMBERED THAT YOU'RE AN ARSEHOLE!"_ Audrey yelled. Percy did not know how she forgot that. That was his personality. " _WHY_ didn't you visit Ron in the hospital yet?"

"Because he sent me very elaborately worded death threats telling me _not_ to go?" Percy raised an eyebrow.

"That's not excuse!" Audrey's cheeks went red. "Well, it is sort of an excuse."

Percy swallowed the lump in his throat. Ron had used very abusive language in his owl. Sometimes, Percy wondered if Ron had any good ways of making Percy suffer as he succumbed to a long and perilous death.

"I…" Audrey did not look happy but she seemed to have marginally calmed down. "I'm just really glad that you're still not the size of a small, sick Calico cat or else I'd be thoroughly pissed at you and—"

She paused again and then realised something else. It seemed that Audrey's smoothies made her extra smart today.

" _OH MY GOD_ , you're using that weight gaining potion thing, aren't you? The one I keep on telling you _NOT_ to use?"

He didn't have to say anything because she knew the answer.

"You have a _death wish_ , don't you?" Audrey snapped. Her demeanour was changing for the ten millionth time that day. Percy doubted that she thought he was cute now. She probably thought that he was atrocious and stupid. Unfortunately, Percy could not defend himself against those claims because they were true. "Percy, you're such a _CHILD_."

"I am not!" Percy knew how childish that sounded like but, _err_ …

"You must be joking," Audrey shook her head.

Percy just cracked afterwards. " _AUDREY, PLEASE! I DO NOT JOKE!_ "

Audrey flinched and he felt guilty—momentarily before the rush of emotion had him saying things that he didn't think he would tell anyone. At least not now. Percy supposed it was better to keep it in a suicide note.

"Why is it that everyone else could be struggling and _not_ be condemned for it, but _I_ cannot?" Percy's shoulders sagged. "Why in Merlin's name do I _always_ have to be fine and if I'm not, I deserve to be shouted at like a misbehaved child? I suppose that if your gigantic brick-house brother suddenly lost weight and refused to eat anything, you wouldn't be calling him stupid or childish… I certainly wouldn't if George suddenly decide to go on a hunger strike!"

He felt like he'd accidentally shown someone a piece of him he shouldn't have. It left him quite troubled.

"Oh, my poor sad Percival that lost three quarters of his body weight," Audrey responded acerbically, and the words cut deeper than he expected because he just told her something that had been in his head for months now, but he hadn't had the courage to say. "Percival, we are _not_ asking you to do much. We are asking you to eat at least _three times_ a day. I cannot believe that you are finding that difficult."

"If _I_ eat three times a day, then I will most likely throw it back up," Percy snapped back.

He felt nauseous even before he ate. He was _always_ nauseous.

"It's all in your head, Percy! You won't throw up if you eat more than three times a week, I'm _SURE!_ " Audrey crossed her arms around her chest. "People need you. Your family needs you. _I_ even need you—did you know that I bothered to go to the crazy magical hospital where they have Ron in the _DRAGON BURN UNIT_ because I care? And _I_ don't even know him! And I accidentally called him Rupert because he reminds me of a… non-magical actor!"

Percy just shook his head. He felt like he had poured his heart out and she had rejected him.

"You're…" Percy stared at her with a vacant expression. _You're wrong. You're wrong. It's not in my head. It cannot be in my head. I am trying so bloody hard to pretend that I am fine, but I cannot consume food the way I normally do. Why is it so hard for people to believe that I literally forget to eat for days when it isn't hard for people to believe that I can't stop eating?_

"You're right," Percy said in a soft voice. "I will sort myself out."

His heart was aching in his chest, and he felt so defeated. He nodded his head at her. "Thank you," he whispered.

He turned to walk back into his flat, trying to forget the fact that he was getting told off. Again.

Going back to his flat was a tedious experience. He did not feel relieved because he knew he would have to wake up early the following day to go to a job he excelled at but absolutely despised. Percy did not even know why he was working. He was suddenly afraid that somehow, he'd need to pay for something in the last few months of his life.

Percy contemplated quitting multiple times in a day, but couldn't not write the first words to his resignation letter.

The weight he'd put on in _months_ , he'd lost again in what felt like days. It seemed like it was only yesterday he was at the Burrow, but it had been _two weeks_ since he'd dared enter the Burrow or Shell Cottage after the confrontation.

Why was this so difficult? Audrey was right. It was simply eating three times a day. If he did that, he could convince everyone else that he was just fine. Instead, they saw him as he saw himself… a relentless _failure_.

He threw himself over at his desk, buried his head into his arms and cried like the child that Audrey insisted that he was. At this point, Percy felt entirely pathetic. He looked up at the window, and felt Hermes peck at his elbow. Hermes was staring at him, and Percy tried to pull his owl close to him, burying his head against his extremely large body. Hermes was a plump owl, almost the size of a small pillow.

Percy took off his work clothes, which he hoped nobody would see him in because it made him look like a criminal.

He threw on the first awful sweatshirt he saw, and a pair of baggy sweatpants (they were baggy originally but not on this stretched, plump skin) and threw himself on his bed. Percy buried his head into his pillow, and tried to fall asleep because if he did not, he'd claw his blood vessels out of his hand.

He had spent most of his time laid in his bed, and only bothered getting up to check on the potion he was brewing.

Or to find something seriously horrifying to do to himself. Most days, Percy could not find anything extremely terrible to do to himself, and then just ended up breaking down and falling asleep. Wonderful.

Oh, he had forgotten to mention that he had chosen how he was going to kill himself ages ago. He had decided on brewing an ancient pain potion to kill himself with. This pain potion was previously used to torture Death Eaters, but was withdrawn from the market when they realised that Dementors were a crueller way to punish them.

Percy was going to lie in a pool of pain potion in a bath tub in his locked flat until he died—which according to his accurate calculations were approximately… oh, just a _fortnight_.

Yes, he was going to lie in a pool of an acidic potion that was going to slowly burn through his skin and then his internal organs and he will feel _all_ of it and not be able to do anything because Percy had specifically made another potion to take with it that would make him able to feel everything but not move a singular muscle for a _month_ —which was more than enough time for him to feel his body dissolving into nothing as he succumbed to his death. He could not think of a more gruesome way to die. Honestly, Percy wouldn't have tortured _Rockwood_ in this manner.

He could not think of another human being that he loathed as much as himself.

Percy shuddered at the thought of that. He felt a sick satisfaction knowing that when they were going to form the autopsy report, they were going to know just _how long_ he'd spent planning this because the potion took so long to brew. He had already arranged his funeral and he had already written his will, which was not unusual considering a war just happened and the prospect of death wasn't fleeting from anyone's mind. He'd written it in _unicorn ink,_ of course… Percy reminisced with a sad smile. Because he needed to count on all the lucky stars he had.

Now, all he had to do was wait for time to _pass_.

Percy had been spending his time checking on the potion every minute, even though he knew himself that the potion needed a week to settle before he'd add in the next step. It was a long and laborious task.

Fortunately, Percy had 12 N.E.W.T's and was _finally_ going to be able to use them for something productive!

Unfortunately, he had miscalculated, and the potion would take approximately a year and _two months_ to complete, which meant that he'd have to delay his suicide for another _two_ months. Instead of killing himself in May to come in accordance with Fred's death, he'd have to do so in _July_. Horrible and extremely untraditional.

In other unexciting news, Percy hadn't consumed anything in approximately a week, and Hermes had been rooting through his fridge for him and giving him packets of chocolate that hadn't gone rancid or whole-grain crackers that tasted like _Ice Mice_ —well, the packet that they came in anyway. Percy had refused anything his owl would give him because he just felt so unsettled. He constantly felt like he was only seconds away from projectile vomiting. He didn't know why the confrontation with Bill left him in such a broken state that Percy couldn't even fathom the thought of putting himself back together. He'd exhausted all his _Reparo's_ on other people and left nothing for himself. It was perhaps the realisation that to his family, he would not amount to anything but Perfect Prefect Percy and that thought pained him to this point or the realisation that it had been two weeks since he last had contact with anyone other than Hermes and the bloke at the tattoo parlour in Knockturn Alley and nobody seemed to really notice that he wasn't there. Not counting the fact that Audrey just told him that he should stop being a child and to visit poor Ron.

What about _THEM_ visiting _HIM?_ He could be dead for all they knew. Or all they cared really, Percy thought spitefully. Why was he the one that had to apologise? Why was it such a crime for him to still find it hard to come to terms with Fred's death when everyone else could be in pain?

Why couldn't everyone else be wrong? _Why_ did it have to be him?

That bright, sunny Wednesday morning, Percy decided to take a shower.

Embarrassingly enough, it was his first time in two weeks that he had even bothered to do this. He shaved the facial hair that he was growing and cut off the mane that he was sporting that could rival with Bill's.

Doing this took three hours of his day, and he was already crumbling with exhaustion.

Percy refused to get out of bed, but Hermes simply would not let him just stay in bed all day today, so he sighed and for the first time in two weeks, he'd actually decided that he would go visit Ron, who was still in the hospital—well, first he put some clothes on and took a dose of _CHUBBY MUMMY'S WEIGHT GAINING SUPPLEMENT: WE MAKE YOU LOOK LIKE YOU PUT ON WEIGHT FOR A WHOLE 72 HOURS_. He watched his skin become engorged with a thick layer of padding he was still not used to. Lovely. But he had to because he knew that he had officially surpassed his previous low weight. Percy wouldn't dare hop on a scale to confirm a number when a mirror sufficed. He was so thin he was mortified even thinking about going outside looking the way he did.

When he got to St Mungo's (after trying to convince himself that it would not be the end of the world—which took a full two hours of him chattering mindlessly to himself), he was quick to find Ron's room.

It was not hard to find the room of someone that had flaming red hair and was covered in freckles and burns.

Ron was sat on the bed, glaring at Percy, and the dragon burns that he had looked like they were healing. Harry and Hermione were standing by the window. Percy could hear Hermione complaining about how Harry and Ron should've been more careful during their Auror missions. Percy clung onto his old, tattered bag, and moved closer to them. Harry was staring at him with a hardened facial expression, and Percy felt himself shrink.

Percy clung onto his bag as tightly as he could, and before he walked closer to Ron, he heard someone walking in as well. He turned around and saw that George, Ginny and Molly were there, and Percy felt even smaller. What a feat considering that most of the time, he felt like a battered sausage roll.

He was being stared at. Percy felt like an abomination standing there, being stared at.

"Where were _YOU_ at for the last two weeks? Stuck in an all-you-can-eat buffet?" Ron spat out.

George cocked his head to one side. "I like it. It brings out the stick in your arse more."

Percy's cheeks coloured in. "Err… um…" he missed his family, but being here was painful too.

Ron just jumped up from his bed, ignoring his magical re-filling IV line—which tightened around his wrist because it was enchanted for patients-jumps-out-of-bed-because-the-brother-they-hated-was-there situations. He grabbed Percy by his arms, holding them so tightly that Percy felt his arms start to bruise.

 _"RON!"_ Molly yelled in surprise. _"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"_

"You bloody _asshole_ ," Ron did not look happy to see him, seeing as he was busy strangling his arms and compromising the bloody supply to his body. "Why did you bother visiting? Did you run out of working hours at your new bloody job, you little arsehole? Or did you want to inhale the cheap chocolates everyone's gotten me yesterday? Did you bloody know that I've been here for _TWO WEEKS!?"_

 _You sent me death threats telling me not to come here!_ Percy wanted to say, but why bother? Nobody would listen.

Percy looked away from Ron, and then nodded his head. "You're right," he said in a low voice. "It's unacceptable."

He was tired of defending himself. Nothing he said mattered.

 _"TWO BLOODY WEEKS AND YOU DIDN'T EVEN BOTHER TO COME SEE ME! HARRY AND HERMIONE DID! BUT YOU HATE HARRY! YOU NEVER EVEN BOTHER APOLOGISING TO HIM, EVEN AFTER HE SAVED US ALL!"_ Ron yelled out, and Percy was becoming deaf, but he still slowly nodded his head.

"I'm sure that he—" Harry was now flustered.

Percy turned to Harry and gave him a nod. "I actually am sorry, Harry. I—" his voice was soft.

 _"I WISH THAT YOU HAD DIED INSTEAD OF FRED!"_ when Ron said that, Percy flinched.

Percy could not deny that sentiment. He was sure that George used to believe that Percy had killed Fred before, and now, Ron had verbally told him what Percy had been wishing all along: that it was _him_ that had died instead.

He stared at the ground, with glossy bright blue eyes.

"Get out of my room," Ron ordered. "I don't want you around here."

He looked back at George, Ginny and his mum who apparently were so shocked that they could not say a thing, but Percy didn't want to stay around anymore. However, he did because he was sick of people telling him that he did not care. He was sick of being in this cycle of coming back only to be thrown out.

Percy sat his arse down onto the chair just beside Ron, and pulled his leg across his lap.

Ron looked absolutely pissed, but Hermione chose the time to sit next to Percy and place her hand on his own.

"He's going through a difficult time even if he's not saying so," she explained, and Percy nodded his head, as if he understood but he didn't understand. He was going through a difficult time as well, but he did not just tell someone else that he wished that it was them that had _died_.

Percy sighed deeply. "It's perfectly fine."

"Perfectly fine?" Ron reiterated in a mock tone. "You have no bloody soul."

Percy closed his eyes and he wished so very badly that his owl was here.

Hermes knew the whole story and about how Percy was going to torture himself very slowly over a period of two weeks until he died. Yes… Percy had talked to his bloody owl about it.

The only person he felt comfortable enough talking to was his _OWL_. How pathetic was that?

He could not even write this down in a personal diary because diaries were stolen (typically by family members) and read to the general public. Humiliating. And he could not tell it to people because people told on him and then yelled at him for daring to feel pain whilst simultaneously saying that he had no emotion. He _only_ had Hermes.

He sat there and drank cheap hospital coffee with everyone else.

Percy tried to shrink into his seat and pretend he didn't exist. It did not help his situation.

He ran his fingers up the rim of his cup. Audrey thought he was childish and wondered how difficult it was for him to eat three times a day and Ron just told him he wished it was him that had died. Hermione told him to ignore it because Ron was having a hard time and thus, it was completely acceptable.

Percy wondered why he bothered staying alive for this long when his life had practically been a downhill trajectory ever since he'd been born. He could not imagine his situation getting worse.

He remembered the days where he was motivated to be noticed, motivated to get people to love him, motivated to be the best brother, the best kind of friend, the best boyfriend, the best student and the best employee.

He did not understand how someone could be so invisible when he was covered in freckles, was over six feet tall and had bright red hair, but nobody noticed him—not even _his teachers_ noticed him. Percy was consistently compared to someone else. But some point, he just wasn't even worth the comparison. His teachers had such high expectations of him, and for some reason, he didn't meet them. But Percy was so sure one day that they will see how much heart he had in him. His motivation was what kept everything inside of him alive. Percy was _SO_ sure that the next thing that he was going to do was going to make people see who he really was underneath all that arrogance and cockiness that had become an integral part of his personality. It was the only thing that kept him from breaking into pieces.

Right now, as he was sitting here, having been told off by his younger brother, Percy had no pride at all. He carried himself like he was about worth as much as a blood-thirsty Flitterby. And nobody seemed to notice the change.

That night, the dragon burns were healing so well that they had even considered discharging him.

It made Percy feel guilty momentarily, because he wondered how bad they had been if they considered it enough of an improvement to discharge him. He looked like he was a half-burned toastie that Percy normally tossed in the bin without a second look. However, everyone was insistent he looked _MUCH_ better than he had before.

They had gotten to the Burrow at around eight in the evening, and the first thing that Percy did was notice that everything was clean for once even though he hadn't been there in weeks. But at the same time, nothing changed.

Nobody was really the same as they were before. This house wasn't the same no matter how it looked.

Percy told Ginny and George that he was going to his flat to pick up all his things and back. He denied their company multiple times, and insisted that he'd actually come back. And he genuinely planned to. He went to his flat, packed all his things, even his potion, which was sat settling in a dark place—and would require at least three weeks of settling before he moved onto the next step—and little things like the banana that he'd been trying to eat for the whole week that had nearly gone bad, and the giant box of snacks that he had bought for Hermes last week to celebrate his birthday.

He went downstairs, paid his last rent, and mentioned that he was moving out tonight.

Percy felt a small twinge of pain, thinking of leaving Audrey. He had the landlady yell at him about rules and regulations that he cared about deeply usually, but he did not care about right then. He tried to subdue her and mention parts of his situation and managed to get through drab paperwork that he had to fill out.

Percy did not remember any of the questions on the paper, or how late it was when he left. He didn't know how many minutes or how many hours he spent staying there or how the landlady looked like.

He didn't know how why she gave him a tray of shortbread biscuits when she was so upset with him moments ago. He didn't know why he sat in the muggle bus all by himself, as he greedily chowed down on a whole tray of shortbread biscuits—and his rotten a banana. Or at least he tried to.

Percy ate three shortbread biscuits, and half his banana before he found himself getting off at a stop that wasn't his and violently vomiting all over the street. Percy didn't remember how he had gotten there either, or how the biscuits tasted like in his mouth. He vaguely recalled that the banana wasn't sweet, and contemplating what kind of coat that he chose to wear that night—even though it wasn't that cold outside. Percy vaguely remembered one or two questions off the form that he had submitted, and what colour he last saw Audrey wearing that day. He vaguely remembered feeling an ache in his arm as he ate the tasteless biscuits, and the sound of two laughing children behind him. As he vaguely remembered these very specific things, he threw up again.

Percy placed his hands on his thighs, noticing how badly his fingers were trembling.

He had forgotten what day it was. He was trying to remember but instead, all he could think about was the fact that Ron had told him that he wished that it was him that was dead, and it just made his whole chest burn.

Hot tears were running down his cheeks and he sobbed recklessly in the middle of a busy muggle street.

Percy was feeling very weak suddenly, and found himself sat on the ground. He was so humiliated that he had vomited and cried in a busy street where everyone was moving past him, and leaving him alone to sob to himself. He tried to keep to himself as much as he could, taking deep breaths as his eyes stung. He could somewhat smell the disgusting sickly-sweet smell of his own sick but most importantly, he could feel his head spinning. He couldn't remember, besides today, how long it had been since he'd last had something that was not a hot beverage.

After sitting there for what felt like hours but was indeed only thirty minutes, Percy got up to carry on his journey back to the Burrow.

He didn't reach the Burrow until very late at night. Approximately the latest—or rather earliest—that he had ever arrived to any destination. It was nearly five in the morning.

And when he had gotten to the door, he realised that it was locked. It was almost funny at that point.

For some reason, being locked outside of the Burrow combined with how tired and exhausted and just thoroughly done he felt like made him sink down to the tattered _Welcome_ mat that they had. He curled his legs up to his chest, and buried his head into his knees. It had gotten colder outside, and it was so nice to sit there even. It felt… it felt almost good, if it wasn't so depressing. He suddenly remembered how it felt like to be small and rejected. It hurt.

Then he felt two hands pull him to his feet and he groggily opened his eyes and noticed a red-headed angel. He was so exhausted. Percy was used to sleeping at least ten hours a day, and he had gotten through an average of three hours per day in the last few days. He had smiled at the angel, and felt his head pounded as he was being guided inside the house. He was shaking from the cold, but it was a pleasant sensation somehow. Percy could not remember much of that either, but the world was blurry. All he could remember was his sausage-like fingers, and the fact that he was smiling in a way that made him feel like he was either delirious or drugged of potions.

He remembered being tucked into bed by someone else, and did not know who but he had told Merlin to bless them.

Percy fell asleep for whole days after that, only waking up to drink some of the water that was there on the table, and to ensure that his stomach was still bloated with potion. By the time that Percy _really_ woke up, he knew that it was the twenty-fifth of November, and it was approximately noon. He could recall what happened that night suddenly vividly. How embarrassing and heinous. Percy was ashamed of himself.

He smiled to himself. Bill had opened the door and it was his mother that had tucked him into bed that night.


	11. Chapter 11

**finally, a chapter where it's in someone else's point of view (George.) i am sorry about the lack of updates. things have been really busy on my end. i will reply to comment replies in the next chapter.**

* * *

 **Love and Old Black Shoes**

Chapter Eleven

* * *

"Do you have a bloody mental illness?" George was trying to shake Percy awake, who had been asleep for the past few days. "It'll be easier to re-animate a fucking corpse than to wake you up from your voluntary coma."

Yes, days—as in _plural_.

 _"Mmmhmm?"_ Percy replied, drool dribbling down his chin.

George would've found it comical if not for the fact that Percy's head so large that it took him ages to come to life.

George had been shaking, cussing and threatening to burn down Percy's room for the past _HOUR_ and it was only recently that the bastard starting to join the land of the living—or semi-living. Hey… no normal functioning human's eyes twitched _that_ often without an impending death sentence.

Oh, and George could've sworn that a near unconscious Percy had told him that he didn't care if he died a _fiery_ death.

That did not sound very Percy-like... Percy would care if he died in a fiery death before he got a new promotion!

 _"I SAID,"_ George cocked his head to the side, strands of red hair falling in front of his chocolate-brown eyes, "That it'll be easier to re-animate a corpse than it is to wake you up from your voluntary coma."

"You…" Percy was still half-snoring, and he sounded like he was dying, "used the word… _voluntary_ …in-c-correctly."

Yesterday, George saw Percy move in his sleep and he wasn't sure if Percy was having a nightmare or a seizure.

 _"WHAT IN MERLIN'S NAME IS WRONG WITH YOU?"_ George asked.

Percy stared at George drowsily. " _Err_ … you are going to have to be far more specific than that."

"More specific?" George reiterated. "Sure, Perce! Whatever _YOU_ want!"

Percy blinked repeatedly, his eyes watering. "Well, I would actually like to take a shower and—"

George's hands wrapped around Percy's small wrist, gripping it tightly. Percy yelped. "You have to be denser than one of Hagrid's rock cakes if you think that I'm going to fall for the fact that Perfect Prefect Percy that has a history of forgetting to eat for days—probably because he's too bloody _SLEEPING FOR DAYS_ —put on several _stones_ in the matter of weeks," George let go of Percy's wrists and gestured towards his body.

" _YOU'RE STILL USING THAT… THAT THING, AREN'T YOU?_ " George wondered why Percy even bothered using that rubbish. "You know, _EATING_ would be another easy way of getting bigger!"

Percy stared at him vacantly, and wiped away the drool off his face.

"You know what I'm going to do?" George took out his wand.

Percy raised an eyebrow. "Kill me slowly and violently so that I could slip into a coma _involuntarily?_ "

George shuddered. It was almost scary that Percy could say that with a straight face and look like he _meant it_.

"Perce, I don't have the patience to wait in line for a sausage roll!" George had been noticing that Percy's jokes recently had been about his death, his tombstone or his grave and it unnerved him. Talk about a morbid sense of humour! "Do you really think I'm going to have the patience to murder you slowly?"

Before Percy could answer, George pointed his wand at the door and yelled, _"Colloportus!"_

The door was immediately bolted shut, and a few photos of Penelope fell from the wall and crashed into pieces.

 _"GEORGE!"_ Percy pushed George off the bed and ran to the pick up the photos. George had already apprehended Percy's wand (which he tossed in the living room in a theatrical manner when he was telling people about how important wand cores were) so he couldn't reverse his locking charm. _"IF THIS IS ONE OF YOUR TRICKS—!"_

"We are staying in this room," George decided. "And I'm going to _BURN_ all your weight gaining supplements—"

"When were you going to admit to your pyromaniac tendencies?" Percy said in annoyance.

"—and then I'm going to wait until your make-yourself-fat-at-home-without-food potion wears off and we could have a talk about why you need _NINETY-SIX_ bloody hours of sleep!" George was not over-exaggerated unfortunately. " _MERLIN!_ No wonder you forget to eat for days! It's _EASY_ when your naps last _EIGHTEEN_ hours!"

Percy crossed his long, freckled arms over his chest. "For your information, I was simply catching up on all the sleep I didn't get when I was busy being the assistant for the Minister of Magic! Now, that's _hardly_ a crime!"

"We're staying here until that potion wears off and if you dare use that thing again, I swear to Merlin I'll make sure you don't wake up next time you fall asleep," George insisted. "I'm sick of you bloody _LYING_ to me!"

Percy raised an eyebrow. "You're going to stay locked in a room with me for _seventy-two hours?_ Because you are aware that's the amount of time that it takes for this potion to run its course and I've just taken a dose not too long ago."

George nodded his head. "If _that's_ what it takes!" but his confidence was wavering.

He'd just basically said he'd stay locked with the most boring wet piece of parchment paper that ever existed—in said wet piece of parchment paper's room where the most exhilarating thing around was an old book about arithmancy with a _slightly_ suggestive title and a single picture of a small animal taking a piss.

Percy moved to the edge of his bed, and sat there. "I suppose you don't fancy any passionate, spell-binding debates on various regulated potions or the fact that there is now a long preventing you from buying as many wands as you like?"

George sighed, and Percy could tell that this was going to be an exceptionally long seventy-two hours.

For the first fifteen or so minutes, they sat on opposite sides of the room because they were trying to ignore each other.

George had too much pride to mention that he thought that it was unnecessary to locked Percy and himself in Percy's room for seventy-two hours. Meanwhile, Percy had too much pride to mention that he, himself, knew how boring his room could be. After all, the only reason he used to spend his day in his room was to avoid Fred and George!

After the first twenty minutes had passed, Percy tried to fill the time by counting the number of quills he owned.

After an hour had passed, Percy had concluded that counting quills would send him to a mental asylum.

Oh, he also theorised that George was probably suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder after he unearthed Percy's secret stash of Ballycastle Bat magazines; typically directed towards thirteen-year-old girls that had vampire fetishes. Mostly because all the photoshoots in the magazine involved half-naked muscular, hundred-year-old men.

After an hour and five minutes had passed, Percy had decided that _this_ was a more suitable form of torture than lying in a pool of acidotic potion and letting it peel away at his skin over a substantial period!

After an hour and six minutes, George was sure that Percy was not okay because he did not comment on the fact that George had accidentally uttered an obscenity when he concluded that Percy did not have anything _exciting_ or _dangerous_ hidden somewhere in the deep, constipated bowels of his room!

After an hour and twelve minutes, George discovered that Percy had prunes in his room. Which made the bowel thing he just said sound extremely funny in his head and entertained him for a full ten minutes.

By an hour and a half, Percy retreated to bed. George was no longer amused.

By two hours, Percy had a thorough walloping because George said _that 'I'm awake and suffering through this! You should too!'_ even though Percy did _not_ lock them in the room and did not have a means of terminating this ludicrous seventy-two-hour sentence that George insisted on seeing through to the end. If only he had so much interest in his education!

By two and a half hours, George was beginning to realise all he would eat for the next few days were _PRUNES_.

After inspecting every inch and crevice of Percy's room, George reluctantly decided to sit next to Percy.

Percy was still sulking and insisting that sleeping for most of the day every single day was a completely normal behaviour, as was losing half his body weight in a few months. At that point, George was sure that he would have better luck helping Marcus Flint getting an Order of Merlin than he would trying to make Percy see sense!

Oh and did George mention that he was sick of being in Percy's room?

Oh, how he would rather take a Dementor to the Yule Ball that spend another minute in this death torture chamber! Which oddly reeked of parchment paper and… _disappointment?_ Merlin, this room was getting to him.

It was haunted… that was why Percy was such a git! And they had a ghoul in the house, so George could confirm this!

By the third hour, Ron and Ginny busted through door. George never found out why they decided to visit Percy in the first place—perhaps, they needed advice on how many button-downs could one own without being neurotic?

When they walked in, Percy lunged to the open door for survival.

Trying to keep Percy contained in his own room, George sent a hex towards his direction.

It was only after he fired the hex that he realised that he just hit a pudgy Percy with a hex that made him blow up like a Puffskein! Percy's fat-engorged skin suddenly ballooned. He looked like he'd just eaten the whole Burrow!

 _"GEORGE!"_ Percy yelled, trying to raise a hand that was so heavy with fat that George believed it could feed a starving nation of Romanian Longhorns. _"I HAVE LOST FEELING IN MY LIMBS!"_

 _"WHY DID YOU MAKE PERCY BIG?"_ Ginny called out. George was not sure what was that for, but it was hilarious.

Percy's button had dislodged, and Ginny managed not to avoid it. Percy's pants were starting to tear…

What a laughing George did not expect was an upset Ginny firing a hex towards him. It left George flat on the ground, scratching himself. Ron was guffawing after that. But George still found it in himself to reach over and grab Ginny's wand—who was caught completely off guard because she didn't expect him to have any self-control— _ha! Joke was on you, Gin!_ —and then hex the door shut with a more advanced locking charm.

He slipped her wand into one of the many pockets of his dark green trousers, whilst still scratching his bum. It was a thing of art really. But you had to be there to appreciate it!

 _"EVERYONE… STAYS… HERE!"_ George managed to yell out. Alright. This scratching thing was not okay anymore.

George tried to pretend he wasn't surprised when Percy leaned in, whispered to him the appropriate counter-curse for Ginny's hex (how did Perfect Prefect Percy know about this hex? _Tsk, tsk, tsk!_ The Minister wouldn't be happy to hear about this!). Percy also added on that George that he was a large, irritating abscess on the face of humanity. How nice!

"What in Merlin's name are you two doing here?" Ginny suddenly asked, reaching for her wand.

"Me?" George innocently asked. "I'm just bonding with my favourite brother, Prissy!"

George jumped on Percy's bed in retaliation and Percy shrieked, _"GEORGE… IF MY BED ENDS UP COLLAPSING UNDER THE WEIGHT OF YOUR BIG, FAT ARSE, THEN I WILL MAKE SURE THAT YOU REGRET IT!"_

" _I'M_ not the one with the fat arse here," George reminded him.

Percy looked down at his pants, which were straining over his expanded form. George wasn't aware one person could have so much pasty, freckled skin! It was a little funny seeing Percy so big when his face was so drawn out, narrow and sunken. George actually decided to perform both counter-courses—for Ginny's immature (!) hex, and for Percy's (much more sophisticated) hex. After all, they didn't have enough prunes for three people and one mega-sized Percy!

George flinched when he saw Percy's clothes suddenly exploding. Ouch.

Percy ended up flat on the ground— _in the nude_.

The once-was lanky redhead immediately went red and reached over for a tacky, baby-blue blanket that he had folded on a rickety old chair. He wrapped himself in a bundle. "You are making me lose my patience."

"And like the Minister, Perce, are you going to tell me to fuck myself?" George jovially asked.

Ron shook his head. "Yeah right. Like _that_ actually happened!"

But then George's eyes were glued on Percy's arm, which looked like it had been mangled before.

"I didn't know you liked dragons, Perce," George then grabbed his torched looking arm and pulled it up to inspect. "Merlin, what did you do? Tell them that they were exceeding the Minister's recommended dragon size, circumference and weight chart? _Tsk, tsk, tsk_ , Perce… you never talk to a woman about her size."

"How many weight related references are you going to make?" Percy raised an eyebrow. "And that—"

Ron practically ran close to them to grab Percy's arm. He stared at it. Because he knew all about burns now!

He pulled his own sleeve up, exposing his arm which was covered in dragon burns but was healing fully. The burns were fading into his skin. In a few weeks, the burns would completely disappear—just like most of Charlie's did.

"That's not a dragon burn," Ron said in a matter-of-fact voice. "Maybe he had an altercation with a bloody kettle."

"You know word _altercation?_ " Percy seemed pleasantly impressed.

Ron was glaring over at Percy. "You're a git," he said, as if it was an appropriate response.

Ginny was squinting and glaring at it like it was going to be obvious now what kind of burn it was.

Then she remembered, and her hard-facial expression melted. George didn't like that look. "In the war, I saw one of the Death Eaters hit a Ravenclaw with an _Incendio_ … and it sort of looked like this after the put the fire out."

"What?" George's voice was soft. He felt angry. "Who the bloody hell is twisted enough to _set someone on FIRE?"_

George did not expect Percy's reaction. He just went red.

"You sick, disgusting bastard," George's hands were shaking. _"YOU SET YOURSELF ON FIRE, DIDN'T YOU?!"_

"George, do you honestly think that ….?" Ginny's eyes were wide. "You're fucking crazy!"

"Ginny! That language is not suitable for a lady such as yourself!" Percy crossed his arms. " _I_ can justify this."

"You can actually justify the fact that you actually set your own arm on fire?" George challenged.

Percy went even redder. "I… I did _NOT_ set my own arm on fire. And yes, I might have had an altercation with a boiling hot kettle. I was trying to pour myself a cup of tea, but I was startled by a sound."

George shook his head. "You're bloody insane."

"You're the one that's trying to keep us locked in a room for no reason!" Ron challenged.

George shook his head, his head started to pound. He felt light-headed and empty inside. "I did it for Percy…"

"It's always been my life's ambition to be locked into my own room," Percy sarcastically responded.

It was silent for a few minutes. Percy went to change into his clothing.

George was trying to find this time to come up with a good joke, but he couldn't. His brain stopped working. Maybe it was a result of being in this extremely boring room with tasteless decor and big bookshelves.

Maybe he was just… _lost_ without Fred. And he was _still_ lost.

As Percy changed, George noticed that his older brother didn't feel a need to tell them not to sexually assault him with his eyes or that he was not decent yet or whatever it was he typically said in these situations. Apparently, Percy was trying to squeeze into his small-sized sweatpants, breaking the elastic. His protruding belly pressing against the thin material of his sweatshirt. It was hilarious.

George believed it was not be appropriate to say that Percy looked like a Kneazle stuffed in a condom.

He was so glad he had gotten rid of that stupid bloody supplement when he found it a couple of hours ago because one would have to be bloody stupid to believe that Percy looked like that when existing on nothing but… _prunes_.

"I can't believe you actually tried to do that," George said, his voice low. "I can't bloody believe you."

"George, I think we established that you're the only one that actually believes that Percy tried to set _HIMSELF_ on _FIRE_. Do you want to know something?" Ginny replied. "Even _Percy's_ not that daft. And if Percy was setting himself on fire, I think _WE WOULD NOTICE!_ And he'd be sanctioned in an asylum... or dead!"

George believed that she was right about that… except for the fact that she was completely wrong.

He also felt uncomfortable with Ginny mentioning the possibility of Percy being dead. Percy made enough death-related jokes as it was. It was almost like _it was going to happen_ and it just made George feel uneasy.

"I don't want to talk about this anymore," George finally said.

Ron just shook his head. "Merlin, you're bloody crazier than I thought you were. George, _you_ need help."

"I don't need any help," George replied in a softer voice and by this point, Ginny moved closer to him and wrapped her arms around him. " _Percy_ needs help. He's-he's… the bloody deranged bloke that set himself on fire and-and-"

George looked uncertain, like he wasn't sure if he was right anymore.

"Percy?" he looked at Percy with big, confused brown eyes.

Percy moved closer to George, placing a hand on his shoulder. "When… when was the last time you slept?"

"Slept?" George wasn't sure. He thought he slept okay, but now that he thought about it, he realised how little he slept in the past few _months_. He probably hadn't had more than three hours of sleep since Fred had died. He moved to wrap his arms around Percy. "Oh but… but…"

"You're _SO_ skinny?" George looked like he was asking more than he was telling. "I…I didn't imagine that! Because Audrey knows to! _I_ know. You're… you're bloody wasted. I didn't make _that_ up, right?"

"No, you did not," Percy replied, and George felt comforted. Then he felt bad that he felt comforted by the fact that Percy looked like something a Dementor ate. "I am genuinely, _err_ …"

"Skeleton-y?" George tried to look for a word. Percy rolled his eyes.

"Yes," Percy replied. "And I still do not understand what the purpose of keeping us locked in here is."

George opened his mouth to reply but didn't know what to say.

Did he do this because he felt like he needed this time-out or because he felt like Percy did? Because Percy looked like he knew what he was doing, but George was not very sure anymore.

He slowly nodded his head, and then gave Ginny her wand. She opened the door for them.

George left and felt like he did the day that he was cradling his twin's dead body into his arms… this wasn't fair.

How was it that Percy could stop eating and still be okay, but Fred died the minute that a few stones fell on him?

How could Fred die in a few _seconds,_ but Ron could get burned by a dragon and be okay?

Why did Fred die and why was George alive? Why was he supposed to be alive for? It wasn't because he was any smarter. Fred was the smart one. George was the emotional one that couldn't _DO_ anything without Fred.

Fred did this for a laugh, didn't he? He died, so he could see how hopeless George was without him!

Good bloody riddance to that asshole. George didn't need him anyway. He didn't need to be someone's twin. He didn't need Fred to be a whole person. _He_ was a whole person all by himself!

He felt Ginny, Ron and Percy following him to his room where he walked inside and felt like he didn't know where he was anymore. It made George feel angry, because just an hour ago, he was so _SURE_ of everything. And now, he wasn't. Because of stupid Percy and his stupid arm and his stupid freckled skeleton…ness that he hid with a giant, fake coat of fat that couldn't fool a troll. Because Percy just _had_ to ask him how much sleep he got.

It wasn't a problem before! Why was it suddenly a problem?

Yes, George's sleep had been suffering from sleep interruptions ever since Fred died and he was forced to stay in this ghost room because he had no bloody emotions! Yes, why not just throw George back into his twin brother's room? Because he was okay? He was always okay and no matter what, he always _HAD_ to be okay…

George suddenly felt very tired. He got into his bed. It was warm inside the sheets, and George felt very secure. It made him feel worse than he had in a long time. Why in Merlin's beard did he still feel like this?

He saw Percy leaning against his bed, and staring at him with a worried facial expression.

"You didn't set yourself on fire?" George asked, still confused. When he said it, he realised how stupid he sounded.

He was just tired! Yeah, that was it. And Percy was fine. He was just the git that he had always had been.

George felt like he could finally let go of all these worries that were in starting to form into his stomach, and he smiled genuinely for a first time in a long time. He was both the happiest he'd been and the worst that he'd been. He wanted to scream and smash things, and he just wanted to hug people and love them. He didn't know why he felt so calm and warm and at the same time, so cold and alone. Maybe because it was the first time in a long time that George felt sleepy. He wrapped himself around the duvet, and he felt bad because he almost didn't care that Fred wasn't there.

How bad was that? Fred was his _twin!_ But if George was dead, he'd want Fred to be okay…

George knew Fred would want him to be okay, but to forget him like this? It made George's little moment of comfort disappear and he was left with this feeling of confusion again.

George didn't know if he was _ALLOWED_ to be alright. Could someone be okay when their twin died?

He wasn't alright with Fred's death just ten minutes ago. He wasn't sure if he was even allowed to be alive either…

George was battling in his thoughts for what felt like hours before he drifted off to sleep.

When he woke up, it was early in the morning. At around three in the morning.

George didn't know how many hours of sleep he had gotten but he felt calmer than he had in a while.

He didn't know if it made him a bad person, but he didn't want to think about Fred anymore. He probably thought about Fred a hundred times in one hour. All his thoughts went back to his twin, and he just wanted a break. Maybe that was why he was so insistent that there had to be something wrong with Percy.

Maybe he _needed_ there to be something wrong with Percy, so he didn't have to focus on Fred anymore.

George rubbed his eyes, and went to the bathroom to take a leak and wash his face with his mum's favourite soap.

He changed his non-comfortable clothes into a pair of plaid pyjama pants, and an oversized printed t-shirt that advertised a business that got burned down with the war… nice!

George tried to go back to sleep but sleep wouldn't come to him. He felt very irritated.

To keep himself from thinking too much about the fact that he was going to die alone, George decided to walk down to the kitchen to get himself a glass of milk.

The house felt quieter and emptier than normal. He still felt like he remembered the days just after the war, where everyone couldn't sleep. Whenever he needed to talk to someone about anything, there was always somewhere there.

But now, there was nobody. And George hated how selfish that thought was.

Sometimes, he felt like he was the only one that cared about the fact that Fred was dead. Sometimes, though, he felt like he was the only one that should care. Because _nobody_ should be as sad as he was that Fred was gone.

Nobody should be allowed to be torn up like he was. Nobody understood how it was like to lose Fred like he did.

As George walked into the kitchen, he was surprised to see that Percy was sitting by a table and eating a few very large slices of orange pound cake at approximately three in the morning.

In fact, on closer inspection, George was sure Percy was eating a _WHOLE BOX_ of orange pound cake.

The potion's effects seemed to have worn off. Percy looked… yeah, George had no words for this.

George watched Percy cut small, calculated pieces which he was slathering with hazelnut spread.

It would've been amusing if not for the fact that George was afraid Percy looked like he would _DIE_ if he didn't radically change his eating habits. Because George had seen Percy a few months back and he was bloody skeletal and seriously sick. Now, he looked almost paranormal and unhuman-like from how bloody emaciated he was. George was scared to even _look_ at Percy because he was afraid that sight was enough to break him into a thousand little pieces.

"You know," George sat down on the opposite side of the table. "You're a bloody selfish bastard."

Percy winced, but slowly nodded his head. "I'm..." he placed his fork down. "I'm aware."

George took one piece off Percy's cake, and took a mouthful of it. He nearly spat it out because it was vile.

"No wonder you could barely bloody eat. I would go on hunger strike too if I forced myself to eat this rubbish," George decided, wondering why Percy was not stuffing his face full of fat Chinese takeaway. It was a much easier and more efficient way of putting way the vital sugars and fats he needed.

Percy took a mouthful of his cake and he swallowed. Wow.

George was convinced Percy had a stomach of steel.

"George?" Percy must have noticed that George was irritated. It was hard to hide after all. "What's wrong?"

" _Why_ in Merlin's name weren't you scoffing down giant trees covered in icing before? This was a bloody problem months ago! You hardly looked like Gilderoy Lockhart a few fucking months back! What is it that drove you to do something about it _this time?"_ George was curious. Percy looking like he needed a fat transfusion was not a recent development. He looked awful last time, but he had been in denial until he lost so much weight he probably couldn't be sat on the chair without feeling his bony bum press against it.

"This is much harder than it looks," Percy said. George bet breathing was hard too. And going for a piss.

"It's in your bloody head," retorted George immediately.

"It is _NOT_ in my bloody head and I wish people would stop saying that!" Percy yelled back.

George got up. He was sick of Percy telling him that the fact that he couldn't even be bothered to shove down even a carrot was stupid and unbelievable. "Fine. Whatever you say, Perce."

The mature thing was to accept that Percy was delusional.

Such as the fact that he'd accepted that Ginny was going to end up marrying a bloke (even though George hoped that she was a lesbian so he wouldn't have to think about a bloke touching his sister.)

Even if that bloke won the war. He didn't have a right to actually touch Ginny.

The immature thing, and exactly what he did, was to drag Percy to St Mungo's for a full evaluation because if it wasn't a mental problem that was keeping Percy from scoffing down carbohydrates, then they should investigate the serious physical reason that Percy had for his intractable nausea and inability to eat.

 _"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"_ Percy yelled out when George just grabbed him and apparated him away.

They took the Knight Bus and it was quicker than usual because even the conductor thought Percy was about to kneel over and croak of starvation! Come bloody _ON!_ And Percy was trying to tell him that it wasn't a mental problem?

Whenever they were in school, he'd stop eating anything but his nails and cheese toasties before his exams!

So, _that_ was why George was sitting here in a room with Percy where an incompetent healer was sticking wands into Percy's ears just to make sure he did not have an ear infection that was so bad that he got nauseous!

If it was a real physical problem, then Percy should be scanned… head to toe!

Yes, George took them to St Mungo's—dragging a six-foot-two bloke was easy when the bastard was the same size as a Cleansweep, no matter how much said Cleansweep was kicking, screaming and shouting bloody Avada Kedavras.

He saw a healer that looked like he didn't know what he was doing—perfect for tonight's physical examination!

Yes, George did this for a laugh and to prove a point.

In the last fifteen minutes, the healer stuck a magically enchanted object into Percy's ears and poked them until they were red and _practically bleeding_. George should find this horrible, and should be annoyed at the healer but Percy's responses to these situations were too hilarious. He had to do this….

For Fred of course. George didn't find this funny _at all_.

Then the man tried to pull Percy's robes up, so he could stick the same object into Percy's—

 _"THIS IS NOT APPROPRIATE!"_ Percy yelled, staring at the healer with a look that could've killed the poor lad. _"WHAT DO YOU GET OFF? I WILL TALK TO YOUR SUPERVISIOR ABOUT THIS!"_

"I am the supervisor," replied the healer as he looked at George. "Fifteen years old, you said?"

"Fifteen and a half, sir," George answered solemnly.

What? Percy could've passed for fifteen. So could Bill, but that was because not many grown men wore earrings.

 _"SO THIS IS THE CHILDREN'S SUPERVISIOR, GEORGE?! THAT'S WHY HE'S STICKING BLOODY BOLLOCKS UP MY ORIFICES!"_ Percy yelled. George didn't know this was a children's healer! Pity. He was the only one that would agree to see a patient spontaneously—especially if there was suspected dragon pox in that child's rectum.

Now how that healer got the idea that Percy might have dragon pox in his orifices? George didn't have a clue…

 _"YOU ARE NOT STICKING THAT OBJECT ANYWHERE NEAR MY RECTUM… EVER!"_ Percy yelled.

"Alright, alright… we'll start with your mouth… let me look at your mouth and you'll have a lolly!" the healer took the chance to open Percy's mouth with his wand and have a look. "Oh wait, no lolly for you! The problem with you is that you couldn't eat, right? Your big brother, George, here told me that you might've ingested poison in your early childhood that gave you a neurotic personality!"

"I blame myself every day," George said solemnly. No, he really wasn't enjoying this. "Poor Perce. Just think… if he hadn't been exposed to that poison, he would be a normal lad… he might've even gotten laid!"

George was thoroughly entertained watching the bloke open Percy's mouth with his wand and then inspect it for any anomalies or erosions. He was _really_ having the time of his life.

"Comfortable there, Perce?" George asked, but then he noticed the healer's face dropping. "What…? _What's wrong?"_

What in Merlin's name was going on? George didn't expect this. He came here for a laugh, not to be told that Percy had something that was not completely mental—

"You have such a wonderful oesophagus!" the healer said.

 _"GEORGE!"_ Percy jumped up from where he was standing and grabbed a laughing George out of the chair. He stormed out of the hospital with George still guffawing. What a way to spend an early morning!

 _"You have such a wonderful oesophagus,"_ George reiterated in a happy tone. "Perce, you should enter it in beauty pageants you know—I'm sure blood-thirsty mountain trolls are keen to know how your internal parts look like!"

Percy shook his head. "I cannot believe that you dragged me to the hospital at four in the morning to have a laugh— _I'M STILL IN MY BLOODY PYJAMAS!"_ he shook his arms around as if George didn't have eyes.

George just laughed even harder and placed a hand on Percy's shoulder.

Percy clenched his hands into fists his ears and face becoming redder by the second. "It is _not_ funny, George."

George's laughter stopped, but he was still grinning like a banshee that was having its way. Percy shuddered.

"Can I ask you a serious question, Perce?" George asked.

"I suppose," Percy mumbled in irritation, as he sat on a bench and tried to pretend he wasn't in his pyjamas.

George sat down beside Percy, and leaned back. George wondered how he was supposed to come to terms with the fact that he didn't think he could accept Fred's death. He didn't think that he was _allowed_ to accept the fact that Fred was dead. He didn't think he was _allowed_ to get over it. It had to be in some sort of giant textbook about twins and if one of them died, what _had_ to happen. George felt bad that he wasn't completely hysterical all the bloody time.

"Are you like so boring that you're boring yourself to sleep?" George asked, but he really wanted to ask was something else completely—something related to what in Merlin's name was going on in Percy's head enough to stop eating!

Percy rolled his eyes. He wanted to ask if George was alright because they were at out at four in the morning for no real reason, but the words just died in his mouth. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. "Shut up, George."


	12. Chapter 12

_**finkles89** : i loved reading your comment! made my morning to see your review :) _

_**Phoenixx Rising** : thank you! i'm so glad that this George point of view chapter had great reception. there's also a Molly and Arthur point of view chapter soon afterwards. :) i'm glad you thought that the medical misuse part was funny because i was so close to not posting it! _

_**piano writer:** thank you! i'm glad that it's nicely balanced... sometimes i think my angst bug gets the worst of me. :) _

_**imagine forevermore** : "I've never cried so hard and felt so emotionally constipated at the same time." i'm so glad to read that. and i am so so relieved that i managed to capture everyone else's pain. since most of these chapters are such a Percy point of view, they're pretty biased!_

 _i tried to edit this chapter a lot a lot a lot. i had to take a break from it for a week because each page sounded exactly the same. hopefully, the end result is alright._

* * *

 **Love and Old Black Shoes**

Chapter Twelve

* * *

The first thing that Percy craved when the weather got cold was ice-cream.

So, he had gone to Honeyduke's and bought himself pints of dairy-free coconut milk ice-cream swirled in with a dense chocolate fudge, caramel and toasted nuts.

"Merlin, Percival," Molly watched Percy dump the ice-cream cartons in the freezer. "In this weather? You must be joking. And did you know how much fat a coconut has? Hardly the kind of thing that someone should be having! The muggles are dying from coronary artery disease left and right because of those high-fat dairy products!"

 _There's no dairy in this, mum,_ Percy thought to himself. However, he did not feel like exposing his mum to the world of dairy-free dairy products just yet. She hadn't gotten used to the fact that there were different brands of Jaffa cakes yet.

As she said this, Percy watched her add about half a cup's worth of fresh cream into her spaghetti, which she then added enough cheese in to make Lee Jordan, who had a severe lactose intolerance, commit his bowls to the lavatory for the rest of the year. He was also sure that a bloke as suicidal as him wouldn't be worrying about artery disease.

Plus, the aneurysm that he'd supposedly had since birth hadn't ruptured yet! What a shame!

It had been five days since and he hadn't had any more than three tablespoons of his ice-cream. He hadn't felt like it. Every time Percy even had a craving for it, he ate a mouthful and felt his arteries solidify from it.

 _How spectacular_.

And before the you-need-a-siphoning-spell-for-the-fat-clogging-your-arteries comment, Percy had actually been excited to open carton of non-dairy despair. What was _her_ issue with him? Percy hadn't actually _wanted_ to eat anything for bloody months now—and the minute that he did, she'd put him right off it!

Currently, as the weather got colder and colder, Percy felt the need to bundle himself up in blankets and suffocate in its own heat, not unlike the branches of a Whomping Willow. He also sometimes felt the need to be strangled by a sentient cotton scarf from Aunt Muriel's private collection… _how lovely!_

As time went on, he found even more depressing ways to die. His aunt would be horrified if she knew how much he wanted to abuse her scarf collection! His mum would be proud to see what he was doing with his extensive Hogwarts education and all the important things he'd learned in the Ministry!

The warming charms that he'd put on his room didn't make him feel any better. And the few times that he bothered to go downstairs, he was always told off for being cold.

"If you'd put on a bit of weight, you stupid skeleton, then you wouldn't be so cold!" was Ron's typical response.

Percy was _not_ stupid. He had gotten all 12 N.E.W.T's thank you very much!

In the past few weeks, Percy had also found himself thinking of Audrey once approximately after thirteen seconds. Percy missed her very much. He did not realise just how much he had missed her and her company until he couldn't just pop round his flat to see her anymore whenever he wanted to.

Merlin. How did he allow himself to be alright with walking into a _muggle woman's_ flat? How crass.

That aside, Percy wanted to try and make himself some of her famous biscuit smoothies, but he was a stupid, sad git that didn't know how to boil and egg without needing to send an emergency owl the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes. He thought of the very few times that she was a walking _Lumos_ charm. Every time she smiled, the whole world lit up. When he had thoughts like these, Percy was forced to confront the fact that he might be slightly smitten with her. Well, until his mum told him that kissing her would make _his arteries solidify_.

For the most part, Percy's exciting last few days of his life consisted of him just went to work, and he came back. He hid in his room all day and none was the wiser. There were no big plans to do something reckless, like apparate to Audrey's flat and snog her for the last time. He didn't even feel like going to Honeyduke's to buy himself a tooth-rotting amount of sweets and eat them all just a day before he died.

Percy's plans were constricted to living his mundane life one day, and then the next day, just… _not_.

Honestly, he was not coping very well. In fact, he realised that he was not coping so well when he concluded that he was not exactly sure what he was supposed to be coping with anymore.

Some days, Percy wondered if he was born doomed to fail from the moment he was born. He found it so easy to remember parts of his life where he'd been victimised, and it left him feeling so cheated. It was all Bill's fault. Bill was the one that confirmed something in Percy's head that he always thought was a product of his own pride—that he had been _right_ when he'd left. That he didn't muck up _everything_ that he'd done after all!

 _I could be dead for all they sodden knew,_ Percy practically thought every time he went to bed.

How could Percy even begin to believe that people valued his existence if his family seemed to think the worst of him no matter what action he took, his ex-fiancée did not mind lying to him about her pregnancy, and Audrey hadn't bothered sending him as much as a Post-It note to let her know what she'd been doing, even though she knew where the Burrow was and he sent her an owl weekly letting her know what he was doing?

 _Hello, Audrey_ , he'd written in the last one. _I don't know what to write, but there's a letter to let you know that I did not succumb to a sad, pathetic death. I've gone to muggle cafes to see the telly. I absolutely find it pointless. Love, Percy._

It was not really a happy owl. If someone he knew and loved dearly sent him that owl, he'd be exceedingly worried! That much muggle telly was not good for you!

Percy couldn't talk to anyone without talking about dying or being dead. And yet, he was getting told off because they thought that he was making light of Fred's death! That, or they were bloody pissed that his sense of humour was so cynical! Wasn't this a warning sign of some sort to let you know your brother was thinking of _Avada Kedavra_ -ing himself? Percy was sure he'd read it in a tacky brochure in a healer's office somewhere!

The fact that he felt like nobody notice his existence didn't really help his death-related fantasies. Yes, _fantasies!_ Some blokes fantasised about making it to premiere Quidditch teams, and Percy thought that the greatest gift possible was if he would succumb to a most violent undoing—one that would make Voldemort himself vomit!

Seriously, what about the people _living_ with him? Percy sometimes wondered if anyone would notice if he hadn't bothered leaving his room until his suicide date _months_ from now!

Three days ago, he went downstairs to make himself a cup of tea and had been told off by Ron for stealing all the bloody hot water for his tea. In fact, Ron wouldn't stop hurling abusive language at him for an _HOUR_.

"Sodding bastard stealing all the water! If we die of dehydration, it's all your fault! How many cups of tea do you even drink in a day? Five? Fifteen? Fifty? Merlin, where do you have the time with your super important job making sure that all the blokes got their favourite Quidditch team's logo inked on their arses!" Ron blew up on him.

It might have something to do with the fact that Ron was heavily drunk and having frequent rows with Harry at the time. But since the five-fifteen-fifty cups of tea incident, Percy hadn't been downstairs to get a mug of tea. Mind you, Ron was not exaggerating when he saw Percy drank Great Lake quantities of the stuff.

Ron also ate all of Percy's ice-cream cartons whilst he was intoxicated, and Percy was irritated because he hadn't really fancied anything else to eat. Oh, and Ron kept on bothering him about that too.

"How could you be shaking from the cold and _then_ eat a frozen dairy product?" Ron asked. Usually as he was just coming in from the Auror department, with his ears half-frozen off, and his nose covered in non-melting frost.

Percy was just glad that Ron did not ask about the dozen boxes of Ice Mice that Percy began hoarding in his room… if he binged on that quantity of teeth-chatter-inducing sweets, he would probably have a convulsion.

"It is not a frozen dairy product," was Percy's response. "It is a frozen _non_ -dairy product."

Yes, Percy kept on buying non-dairy products even though he was not lactose intolerant. He bought gluten-free cakes, even though he had no coeliac disease. He had sugar-free chocolates, even though he was not diabetic.

Percy just wanted to be healthy. Which was strange coming from a suicidal bloke. But it was not his fault that he just did not want to die because his arteries were clogged with too much coconut fat. How terrible.

Yes, _terrible_ … said the bloke that was legitimately going to drown himself in an acidic potion that would slowly dissolve his body's cell structure over the period of a fortnight. And he would paralyse himself, so he wouldn't have any second thoughts as he succumbed to his torturous method of death.

Knowing Percy, he would miraculously recover from this and develop self-inflicted PTSD.

Ever since the tea incident, he had contemplating going out to buy himself his own kettle for his room, but he knew he didn't deserve it. The ludicrous thing was he knew that Ron wouldn't tell him off this time, but Percy couldn't bring himself to go downstairs and do it. It was like he was breaking a cardinal rule of some sort!

Today, Percy promised himself that he would use all his dwindling mental effort (the muggle café tellies were really lowering his IQ) to go downstairs to make himself a cuppa that morning.

He genuinely had no energy to do much these days. He'd become… even _less_ like himself than he was when Fred died.

In the same period that Percy was getting worse, the Burrow was getting better.

His mother was taking care of the house and didn't need any help at all. Charlie and Arthur were coming back from the rehabilitation centre today—and everyone was acting they'd been on a long ski trip! Ginny and Harry were planning a wedding. Fleur and Bill were beaming at the seams because Fleur just announced she was pregnant and didn't know. They went from contemplating a divorce to baby-proofing their house with protective charms! George was contemplating new products. Ron and Harry were fighting about nonsensical things again as usual.

And oh, Percy still wanted to die.

Because everyone was getting better, Percy felt self-conscious and unhappy. Even if this was what he wanted originally. This week, George didn't even think about Fred and there was the one conversation that he talked about him like nothing was wrong at all! Like Fred hadn't died!

Percy knew that it had been _SIX MONTHS_ , but it felt like it had been only six hours since he'd last held Fred into his arms. For a fleeting moment, he considered just abandoning his suicide schematic, and then he realised that if he chose to live, he would have a job in a tattoo parlour and a family that didn't seem to notice that not only did he hadn't left his room for three days, not even for food—or more importantly, _tea_.

When he came downstairs dressed and ready to go out (though he was not intending to leave the house), he realised he couldn't put the kettle on because there were so many people in the kitchen.

Percy was on edge in the kitchen of the house that he grew up in! What a _joke!_

In desperate need of something to quench his thirst, Percy decided to put his coat on and leave the house. After only a few moments of contemplation, Percy decided to go to Diagon Alley to a little place that sold smoothies.

He had passed it only once before when he was thirteen years old and his mum was trying to tell Bill to do something about his ever-growing horrific ghastly waterfall of red pubic hair—oh, how Percy could write a book just at how much he despised Bill's hair. It was unkempt, greasier than Snape's at times, and the few times that Percy had gotten drunk with his family around, he'd thought it was a giant, blood-thirsty Kneazle ready to attack him!

As he walked into the shop, he felt oddly out of place. He felt like he was doing something he was not supposed to do.

Percy didn't know how wizards made smoothies, but muggle music-producing contraptions were not involved.

In the shop, Percy felt out of place. There was a couple kissing in the background. There were excited children pumping fists in the air. The smoothie he ordered was more like a milkshake. And when he had gotten his chocolate-vanilla-something smoothie-milkshake hybrid, Percy sat down far away from everyone else like the social person that he was underneath all that harsh demeanour.

It was just December, and the thought of having to wait even another minute to die was impossible to contemplate.

The more he thought about it, the more it sounded like a fable. Like a wonderful dream that wouldn't happen!

Percy didn't know how much deep-seated contempt he had for his family if he felt elated at the thought of them finding him in a situation where his skin attempting to divorce his skeleton after twenty or so years' of being happily married. Though in his defence, that was not very hard to do given how little fat and muscle he had in between.

As Percy sipped his milkshake, he looked around to see all these happy people.

Shockingly, it seemed like being alone in public didn't help him feel any better. It just made him feel worse, and the sadder he felt, the more his hands were shaking. His sweet milkshake tasted overwhelming. He'd barely had a few sips of it before he started to feel nauseous. Then suddenly, Percy felt the need to seriously harm himself.

 _I can't live like this. I can't live like this. I can't live like this. I want to die. I want to die. I want to die. I want to bloody die—_

He just hated being so alone. He wanted to be held, and coddled and talked to. Percy couldn't say that everyone was still so deep into their own mourning that they couldn't notice how he was falling apart more and more every day. They just didn't care anymore. And how could they care about someone who looked like he was carved of stone?

Percy decided to get out of the gorgeous dainty little place. The colours were really starting to irk him.

In retrospect, there were more colours in that little smoothie place than a bloke suffering from a magical STD.

So, it wasn't _that_ surprising that Percy was feeling a little overwhelmed at the fact the walls were brighter than the new Firebolt that Harry was planning to give Ginny for Christmas!

Instead of apparating back to the Burrow, Percy sat on a bench and watched the world pass by.

He was freezing. He'd be much warmer at home, but he actually didn't want to go home. His hands were shaking even more vigorously. He suddenly had a desperate need to see Scabbers, who he now knew was actually a traitorous middle-aged Death Eater that was involved with Harry Potter somehow.

He didn't come home until late that night. When Percy had tiredly staggered into the house, he heard laughter coming in from their kitchen. He was sure everyone was sat together, drinking butterbeer and having a good time.

Percy walked upstairs, because he didn't really feel invited. He could see from the corner of his eyes, Charlie and Arthur sitting at the edge of the table looking like nothing had ever changed. Percy was right fed up of it. Perhaps, he was biased, but he couldn't believe how easy it looked like for the rest of them to just ignore him.

How could he hate himself so much that he wanted to die in such violent ways, but at the same time, wished that someone sat with him and asked him if he was alright instead of making accusations about how impossible and disgusting it was that Percy's appetite was so shot he could go on for days without eating?

Percy's eyes were blurring with unshed tears as he walked upstairs.

He closed his door, and laid down onto his bed. He hated days like these! Percy always believed that it was fair before, because everyone else was suffering but now, they were alright, and he was… not right in the head still.

He heard someone knock on the door—wait, _who_ actually bothered knocking on the door these days? Well, Percy was sure that it wasn't George, Ginny or Ron—so he sat up and smudged the tears out of his eyes before they started to fall. _Brilliant_. He couldn't even be alone to cry in peace now!

He splashed some water from a water bottle nearby on his face and wiped it off before he got up from the bed to open the door. Percy was taken back to notice Charlie standing there, but not as horrified as Charlie was—

 _SMACK!_ The plate that Charlie was holding was shattered into pieces. His mum's Sunday roast was all over the floor.

Charlie looked like he'd seen a ghoul—well, alright, they had a ghoul and he wasn't that shocked when he saw him. More like Fred's ghost. Charlie looked so small right then, with his eyes glistening like he was trying not to cry. Percy would go as far as to say that he _almost_ forgot that he was as big as the bloody dragons that he tamed.

Percy grabbed his wand from his desk just beside the door and leaned down to clean up the mess.

He'd repaired their plate, which had been broken more times than Percy could count, levitated the roast into the bin and then wiped the floorboards clean in… well, about a minute. During that time, Charlie continued to look like he'd been stupefied. He was standing there like a lumbering pile of rocks!

When Percy cleaned the mess up, he put his wand back at his desk. "Charlie?" he called out loudly. _"Charles?"_

Charlie shook his head repeatedly. Oh for Merlin's sake—

"Charlie," Percy placed his hands on Charlie's shoulders. He realised how short Charlie was. "It's alright—"

"Stay here. I'll come back right now," Charlie said in a low voice.

"Charlie, what are you…?" Before Percy could ask more about Charlie's sanity, he'd left.

Percy was left trying to decipher what his next action. He didn't have to think about long because he heard yelling downstairs and he could vaguely make out Charlie's voice. Percy's eyes widened, and he practically sprinted (pathetically he might add. Merlin, he was so out of shape!) downstairs.

He walked into the room, noticing that Charlie was slamming his fist into the table, and it squeaked under his touch.

Percy moved towards him, placing his hands on his shoulders like he did upstairs. In his fit of rage, Charlie pushed Percy off—unfortunately given the fact that he was always somewhat lightheaded and the only thing he'd had today was a quarter of a smoothie—he'd ended up landing somewhere alongside the pantry.

When Percy slammed into the pantry, his head started to pound. He was starting his chest ache from his own uneasiness. Oh, this reminded him of Bill slammed him in the wall—he didn't get a near panic attack then!

"Are you alright?" Charlie looked horrified, like he didn't really mean to slam Percy into the pantry. "Merlin, I…!"

"Of course, he's not bloody alright," Bill said in an irritated voice, glaring at Charlie like he was the epitome of all evil. " _YOU_ just slammed him into the pantry for no real proper reason, you giant oaf! Percy? Are you okay?"

Percy just nodded his head silently. Oh, but he was seeing more stars than in a Hogwarts' Astronomy star chart.

"I didn't mean to!" Charlie replied vehemently. "I was… Merlin, this is so ironic because I wanted to call you out on what in Merlin's name happened to Percy when I was gone! Cause I distinctly remembered when I left, there was at least _THREE TIMES_ more of him than there is _NOW…_ _WHERE'S THE_ _BLOODY REST OF HIM?!"_

Ron shook his head. "You're overreacting—"

"Dad and I don't think we're bloody overreacting!" Charlie stared at Arthur, who had the same stunned look at Charlie had when he first saw Percy—but he didn't seem to snap out of him. "You got used to seeing him like that, haven't you? He's just about ready to succumb from starvation and you lot decided that it's normal!"

 _"NO, WE DIDN'T JUST DECIDE THAT IT'S NORMAL!"_ Bill yelled back. "And great help you've been during!"

" _I_ needed help!" Charlie replied, pasty-faced. " _AND LIKE I BELIEVE THAT!_ He's not come down for dinner and nobody's even bothered to call him down for it either! _I_ was the one that even noticed that he started getting scrawnier in the first place—and _I_ was under the influence! Merlin knew how long it would've taken for you lot!"

Molly just burst into tears at that point. Ron looked enthralled, as he shrieked, "You've upset mum!"

"Well, she's upset me by letting Percy look like _THAT!"_ Charlie gestured towards Percy like it was completely fine that he was still on his arse. Arthur sprang into action to help Percy back up on his feet.

"That's enough now," Arthur said, and Percy hadn't heard his father sound so calm in a very long time.

"Well, it's not her bloody fault!" Bill ignored Arthur and seemed to go on. "What do you want mum to do? Make a grown man to sit down on a bloody chair and force-feed him until he's about the size of a troll? It's not her fault."

"We told Percy," George said in a low voice, but he didn't seem convinced. "But when someone can literally fall asleep for days on fucking end, it's hard to feel sorry for them, isn't it? I'm sorry, Perce, but you dug your own grave."

Percy felt his father rub circles on his back, and he stiffened immediately after. The last thing he wanted was for his father to feel his spine and then tell Molly about how he was smaller than a sad little broken chocolate skeleton.

"Oh, and with all the help you've offered him, I'm sure _he's_ the only one at fault!" Charlie challenged.

Then Percy just… he was just so bloody tired of hearing the same damn argument everywhere he turned. No wonder he had problem telling which day or what time it was.

When all the days melted together into _one_ , could anyone bloody blame him?

It felt like since Fred died, they seemed to only zoom in on the bloody fact that Percy was sleeping too much, barely ate, and apparently, looked like he was about to lead an army of Inferi. He was sick of hearing this. _He was SO bloody sick of hearing this. He didn't want anyone to talk about this anymore. He wanted he wanted he wanted to—_

As he heard the voices of his family's arguments echoing in his head long after they stopped shouting, Percy's bright blue eyes started to swell with tears and he felt his hands tremble.

"Perce?" he heard George's voice echo, softly. "Are you okay?"

Percy couldn't speak. He felt like if he said anything, he'd just start shouting things about how he wanted to die, how much he wanted to die, how he was planning to die—

And it wouldn't be worth it. It wouldn't be worth it.

So, Percy just stood up from the chair, and then, in a very cold voice said, "I am perfectly fine. I want to go for a walk whilst you decide amongst yourselves what to fight about next Sunday roast."

"Perce," George's voice was softer even. He looked surprised at how cold Percy seemed. "This isn't like you."

"What, pray tell, do _YOU_ know about _ME?_ " Percy challenged, causing George to quieten down.

Percy walked upstairs to grab his things. There wasn't was much to salvage beyond than the potions that he was making, clothes that hanged off him, a few boring books that even he wouldn't read and his beloved owl. He was carrying his things in his arms. Hermes was following him. Oh, and his heart was pounding so hard that he thought that he could feel about to burst out of his chest. Even though Percy didn't have any real sense of humour, he knew that right now, he was the biggest joke that ever existed in the space-time continuum.

Charlie was starting to look whiter than Dumbledore's tomb. "Percy, listen to—"

Arthur finally looked like he had a reaction. Too bad it wasn't a good one. "Didn't we go down this road before?"

"You're not really serious, are you?" he heard Ron say as Percy opened the door. " _YOU'RE LEAVING THIS HOUSE AGAIN?_ Didn't you do the whole 'I was a fool for sucking up to the Minister's arse' speech when—"

"I _was_ a fool…" Percy decided, realising that if he left tonight, he would literally have nowhere to go since he'd just left his flat back in London, "…for deciding to come back to this house again."

He was sure he made his whole family turn on him in about less than a second.

"Is that it, Percy?" Bill looked like he was ready to strange him. Why didn't he? He'd already given Percy a head injury, and that was when he'd already forgiven him! He was one to talk! He was the one that told Percy that he was right the first time. "I'm _SO_ sorry that we inconvenienced you this much, what with us mourning poor Fred and all."

Percy felt his hands shake. He looked pathetic, standing there holding all his heavy, sweaty second-hand clothes in his arms. And if he heard just one more person imply that he didn't care about the fact that Fred again, he was just going to straight up stab himself right in front of them.

 _"Well?"_ Bill looked tempted to kill him.

After two minutes of silence waiting for words that he would never hear, Percy stormed out of the Burrow.


	13. Chapter 13

_**comment replies:**_

 _ **LizzieUY** : i'm not sure what you mean when you asked about the family reacting. to his suicide plot? because that will hopefully be after a few chapters! :) _

_**HPfan1221** : fortunately, i edited this chapter soon after i edited the twelfth one. :) enjoy. _

_**Grin like the Cheshire Cat** : i don't know why but i didn't expect that chapter to be that impactful! thank you for letting me know. :) i hope you enjoy this one. _

_**finkles89** **:** "Oh dear lord that family is so blind to what's happening." i know! it irritates me to write it as much as it is to read it. i mean try to slip in a few moments of them noticing, like George in the last chapter. he's actually got the right track. "Does Percy go to Audrey next? I like her." i LOVE Audrey, but you'd just have to read this chapter and see. ;)_

 _ **Phoenixx Rising** : i really am so shocked that you guys have been finding this chapter really impactful. i re-wrote the ending last second, so it made me feel good to know it's paid off! "I can see why you have trouble with it feeling repetitive, but I think you did a good job of it. He spent the whole day sinking deeper and deeper into the same despairing feelings, it must have been keep it from sounding the same over and over. I think you did a very good job of it." thank you so much for letting me know. fortunately, there will be a new additional layer to Percy's thinking process that i didn't explore very well before so i hope that it adds a new intrigue. you will... really not like Arthur in the next chapter, but i think that i have this amazing gift to make Arthur an arsehole in less than three paragraphs. and tears? wow. that was a great review. i was so happy to read it. _

_**malfoyravenclaw555** : thank you! i'm glad that it made an impact because i tried to do as much as possible when i re-edited it. :)_

 _ **irene2005** : the whole neglect plotline i have with Percy is literally almost the best part of this fanfiction. because it's so easy to build it up and destroy it._

 _ **imagine forevermore** **:** thank you so much! your comment makes me smile SO MUCH. _

_**finkles89** **:** ouch. the fact that you posted that on the 7th and i'm like just updating this 3 weeks later is awful. i am a bad author. _

_**RavenclawIrene:** i had to look up what HEA means (my fanfiction terminology seriously sucks). truth is i don't think i can end this fanfiction with a sweet conclusion even if he didn't go through with it because of all the things that Percy heard or saw. i think it'll be insulting to say that he was cured in a few chapters. i have a mini idea of how i want to end this but i'm hoping that i get something better because i think it's not as good of an ending as i want. i think that the ending is the most important part of the fanfiction for me because it's the thing that sticks in my head. i hate writing a well-fleshed fanfiction and have this really anticlimatic, boring conclusion to it. so far, the mini ending i have planned right now is sort of like 'okay, a lot of people will not expect this' but if i was reading the fanfiction and it had that ending, i would be really frustrated. it's definitely not traditional. but if i decide on something else, i'll still let you know the original plan. ;)_

 _when editing this chapter, i actually didn't completely re-write it this time! wow! that's unusual! i felt like the flashbacks might be overkill, but i tried to limit them as much as possible. when re-reading them, they didn't annoy me so i hope that they're not annoying. Percy had his own few flashbacks, and Molly has one right here._

 _ **this chapter** is in Molly's point of view. the **next** one is in Arthur's, and features Ron heavily as well (who i can't write that well unfortunately). **Chapter 15** is a Percy point of view chapter, and he'll explain exactly why he left again. _

* * *

**Love and Old Black Shoes**

Chapter Thirteen

* * *

Molly Weasley didn't think that she'd find herself sat in Percy's room on a cold December day clutching his very old stuffed, distressed bright purple crumple-horned snorkack that… had met its doom, on a cold night not unlike this one, after a sad, miserable four-year-old Percy tried to pry it away from Fred and George's eager, freckled hands.

The stuffed toy now looked like something a first-year student would spew up after ingesting a Puking Pastille!

At that time, Molly could vaguely remember ten-year-old Bill having a temper tantrum about how he was going to spend his summer holidays with his new Scottish friends that were going to take him away to a famous zoo in Greece— _SMACK_ _IN THE MIDDLE OF THE WAR!_ Meanwhile, eight-year-old Charlie tried to sneak out of the safe house ever chance he got to try. This was usually to try and ride a broom that he was too young to use… _try_ being the key word. Every time Charlie even thought of looking outside the window, Molly heard little, bright-eyed Percy complaining about it. At the time, his English exceeded Charlie's. She hadn't known if Percy was gifted for his age, or Charlie was slow in learning new words. At eight years old, Charlie had a limited dictionary. Unfortunately, this dictionary included statements such as _mum, I'm famished_ (even though he nicked Bill's food all the time), _mum, I think I'm dying I lost a lot of blood_ and _get stuffed, Percy. Nobody likes you anyway._

Well, Percy knew more words than Charlie did—or to be honest, more than Molly did. Pity he couldn't pronounce them. For example, Percy often used the word confection whenever he told her that he wanted sweets. Unfortunately, it sounded more like _infection_. The time a French bloke stayed there, Percy learned the word _faux pas_ from… which sounded like a swear word coming out of Percy's mouth.

She… well, bribed him with _infections_ to keep him from saying that word.

And another word he always used was _sorrow_. However, coming from Percy, it sounded more like _sparrow_. It was hard for Molly to try not to laugh when she tried to take her four-year-old son into bed at eight and he waved his arms dramatically and said that _he was so full of sparrow!_

He better not be full of sparrow. The bloody things were bloody expensive.

"Mum, I know what the word maudlin means," Percy said. The way he said it, it sounded more like _moody-lin_.

Really. Molly hoped Percy's mispronunciations didn't land him into accidentally saying the name of a spell.

Last thing she needed was Percy to first show off his magical abilities whilst trying to wave a book too heavy for him to pick up—she could just imagine the book exploding into pieces that would fall like, _err_ … sparrow feathers.

 _"_ I read it from a _MASSIVE BOOK!_ " was Percy's usual response. Molly never figured out what book he used either.

All she knew was there were no pictures in it. Percy outgrew books with pictures at the mere age of three.

Molly hadn't quite outgrown those books yet. Well, because the only books that she used were cookbooks _._

When Percy's crumple-horned snorkack met its doom, Molly expected him be sad. If this was Bill or Charlie, she'd expect them to scream and throw things around in a vile temper tantrum, but Percy wasn't like that. Instead of throwing her purse in the fire, Percy just became even more quiet and withdrawn. Mind you, Percy himself was a very quiet child to begin with—well, _minus_ the times that Percy caught Bill trying to use their parents' wands to open the biscuit tin before dinner time! _Death Eaters_ could've probably heard Percy's shouting!

Molly could never forget the time that she found Percy beating Bill with a broom, screaming _BISCUITS NOT BEFORE SEVEN O'CLOCK_. She was sure that Bill was cursing the bloke that taught Percy how to read a clock.

So, it was shocking when it was four o'clock that night and she found the biscuit tin empty.

Molly walked towards Percy at around five that same day and noticed that Bill was sitting beside him, and had a plate of biscuits on Percy's lap. He was trying to read a book to Percy, but it was obvious that Percy was not very interested.

When Bill caught sight of Molly, he looked alert. "Mum, there's something wrong with Percy. He's not like himself."

"I'm okay," said Percy in a soft voice, looking at Bill. Bill just shook his head.

"Percy?" Molly looked at him with a look of concern. "Percy, are you alright?"

"I'm okay, I'm okay," repeated Percy. He did not use any big words. He was _not_ full of sparrow. This was troubling.

Percy stuck his head into the book that Bill was reading him, but it was upside down, so she knew that he was only doing that to try and avert her gaze—and bloody massive it was. Molly had only ever used a book that big as a weight for when she was doing her morning squats.

"You haven't said much," Molly commented. "Are you sure you're alright? Is this about your toy?"

"I'm okay," Percy repeated. She didn't know how she heard what he said at the time. If he'd used a voice that soft these days, Molly wouldn't be able to hear it without the use of one of… Fred… and George's Extendable Ears.

"Maybe he's just tired," Bill offered, before rubbing Percy's shoulder. "Come on. Let's get you to bed."

Percy didn't say his usual _it's only five! I'm not a child!_ reply. This was _very_ troubling.

"I can get you another toy," she tried to tell him, but he didn't reply to that. "Is that alright? _Percy?"_

Percy just stiffened. After her prodding him about his toy, he looked at her straight in the eyes and firmly told her: "His name was Maudlin after the new word that I know." She didn't know what emotion his voice had, but she knew her heart sunk into her chest the minute he said those words and looked at her with those great big, shining blue eyes.

But she'd noticed it herself before—Percy grew attached to his things. He'd always had a hard time replacing _anything_ … Percy refused to take off the last pair of shoes she'd bought for him even when his feet wouldn't stop bleeding because of how small they were. Molly had to chuck them in the fire and he was furious when she did that. But this time wasn't like every other time… it was different. Because he _didn't_ just snap out of it after a few hours.

Five days after the crumple-horned snorkack debacle, Percy didn't seem to get any better.

Charlie came to her one day, with a tired-looking Percy leaning against him. "Mum, Percy can't sleep."

Molly placed her hand on the bed. "Come here."

Percy climbed on top of the bed, but Charlie didn't want to leave for a while. He stayed there, drowsy but awake as Percy tossed from one side of the bed to another. After Percy fell asleep, Charlie left and slept in through the day.

That morning, when she woke up bright and early at five in the morning, Percy was already awake.

It worried her when he didn't wake her up like usual when he woke up all alone in a badly lit room.

Percy, who was normally talkative, refused to speak to her or anyone else. He was starting to become uninterested in anything that normally interested him. He would spend hours staring outside windows or gawking at walls instead of trying to get big books out from the library without an adult's supervision because he'd already finished the other one that he had in his room. To her, he felt so lifeless and dull. Like nothing could make him happy.

A week later, in the heat of the war, Molly made Fabian get a new crumple-horned snorkack stuffed toy for him—after much arguing on _both_ their parts mind you. They couldn't buy eggs without beings truck by the fear of death—and Percy was still not very interested in it. At that point, Percy had also very little interest in sleeping or eating.

That was when her concern peaked. Molly scooped him up into her arms and even though they were in the heat of the worst war she had ever seen, she left the safe house with Percy clasped firmly to her soft, freckled arm.

Molly took him to several healers, wondering if he might have been stung by glumbumbles even though he had no blemishes on his body. They referred her to psychiatric healer under the query of possible childhood autism. _Autism… HER Percy!_ Molly did not know much about autism, but she was sure that Percy did not have it. She felt outraged in some way, feeling like they were trying to tell her that Percy's normal behaviours _weren't_ normal. During these visits, he didn't say anything about what they were talking about, but she could tell that he was just being polite.

After the visits, he bombarded her with questions that she couldn't answer. None of them involved big words either, so Molly made the conclusion that Percy was really confused and afraid.

"These healers aren't talking about your belly. Why were you talking about me?" he asked but she didn't answer.

When she didn't answer, Percy took that as a sign of her anger. "Mum… did… did _I_ do something wrong?"

Molly must have been unhappy that day. She remembered what she told him and she'd regretted it the second that it left her mouth. At that time, she bet all the things that they'd been telling her regarding Percy were rolling in her mind, but it was no excuse and she knew it too. "Why can't you just be normal, Percy?"

It was his response that made her realise that she'd really wounded him.

"Okay," he replied with glossy eyes.

Molly then leaned down to his eye-level, which was very hard to do when you were heavily pregnant. She wrapped her arms around him, and he cried into her arms.

"I…" Percy opened his mouth to speak, probably to explain himself, but he didn't say anything else.

Molly looked at him in a serious manner. "Yes, honey? Yes?"

Percy just shook his head. She tried to get him to say what was on his mind, but he didn't say anything.

In fact, he didn't say anything for the next nineteen years.

After a few more visits, the psychiatric healer told her that they were going to keep Percy in a room with other children for observation. Molly was even more apprehensive about what had been going on. She refused to leave his sight of course. She was not letting her four-year-old child in a room by himself, even if it was consistently supervised by other people.

She tried to tell him that they were on holiday together. Percy looked like he believed her.

It was a gigantic disaster. Percy clashed with every one of those children—especially the hyperactive ones that kept on stealing his things, the things that she knew that he was very possessive about. They tried to play with his hair and steal his drawings when he was in the middle of working on them. Percy probably cried every hour there, and he threw temper tantrums that she'd never seen him do. If he barely slept and ate at home, it had just gotten worse there.

Worst of all, after the first week, they still wanted to keep Percy there to _'monitor his behaviour'_ because he ' _obviously isn't like everyone else. He's not normal. I'm just not sure what he has but… don't worry though! We can help him!'_

Molly decided to agree to this, and she'd regretted it ever since.

Percy got into a huge row with one of those blokes there. Percy usually didn't get involved into anything physical—not until then. He got into a fight with a bloke that was much bigger and older than he was. By the time that Molly broke up their two-minute fight, Percy had a swollen lip, a bruised cheek and wouldn't stop crying for hours after.

When he didn't calm down, Molly decided enough was enough and left to go back to their safe house.

When they got there, Percy practically clung onto anyone that would give him the time of day. This behaviour was apparently so irritating that Bill and Charlie couldn't stand having Percy around for longer than a minute. Molly was the same. She would let him stay in the room for about an hour before she told him to go do something with someone else. At first, he used to tell her that nobody wanted to do anything with him. Then came the days where he would stand up and walk to sit by himself. He still told her about some of the new words that he knew, but not all of them.

Now, only seven months after she lost one of her children, Molly put down the stuffed toy. She stared at Percy's room in all its glamour—or lack of. It was a small little room. She often forgot it existed when she was passing the hallways.

She remembered the first time he walked into this room as a six-year-old boy. They'd just bought their first house ever, a big splurge after the war. The room was small and bare, and if Percy would've had his way, not much about the room would've changed. Instead, he had Fred and George to make his carpets splotchy. He had Charlie to hang up posters of his favourite band even when Percy said he didn't want them and he hated that band with the passion of a thousand burning Ashwinders. He had Bill get him useless souvenirs from wherever he went. He had once bought Percy a set of rings from when he was in Stockholm even though Percy had no taste for male jewellery.. He had Arthur throw his useless muggle equipment in every place possible. He had Ginny's feminine birthday gifts, her way of poking fun at Percy really because Ginny was not a feminine girl. So, Percy was stuck with gifts like vials of love potions and the little ballerina figurines that he had absolutely no clue what to do with.

That was not including the masses of things that Molly had knitted for him.

The room had a lot of personality, but she was not sure how much of it was Percy's really.

Molly sat on the edge of his bed. She always forgot how uncomfortable it was. Whenever she mentioned it to Percy when he had been growing up, he just shook his head and said that it was _'sufficient.'_

Sufficient enough to give him back problems before the ripe age of thirty he must've meant!

The past few months had been hard. Molly was surprised when Percy stormed out yesterday, his things in his hands even though that she very well knew from his friend Audrey that he'd vacated their apartment ages ago. It made her wonder where he would go. The worst-case scenario being getting a flat anywhere near his job—just the thought of Percy having a flat in Knockturn Alley made her stomach squirm. She tried to forget the fact that he had a job in that— _that horrible, dangerous, mucky, disgusting place_. Molly felt least enthusiastic about Percy's job… even though one of her children tamed fire-breathing dragons for a living, the other one risked their life for Harry Potter and the third one broke ancient curses that could paralyse or kill him at any moment! But Molly had been near Knockturn Alley before. She'd heard the stories. She knew what could happen there.

Molly knew that it was a Ministry-related issue, that Percy couldn't get another job… but that was hardly fair! Then again, Percy didn't seem to be complaining about it. Was he secretly glad that he got a job in a _tacky tattoo parlour?_

 _Yes, he's so happy_ , she thought to herself cynically. _Just look at him. Bursting at the seams when he comes home from his work._

Molly _hated_ to think that his unhappiness and his lack of appetite had something to do with the fact that he had a job that he loathed. Because he could've said something! If she knew that it was affecting him to the point where he starved himself relentlessly and slept for most of the day, she'd want something done about it! Maybe this whole job debacle was really depressing him, but he didn't want to mention it in lieu of Fred's… _Fred's death_.

She wished she knew what exactly was bothering him. She could only speculate what went on in Percy's mind. Though she doubted playing a game of _Guess What's Wrong With Your Son_ would help her in the long run.

All Molly knew that she had _really_ mucked up!

She didn't want to think about the wallpaper catastrophe, the _how can you look at George the same way again?_ horror show, the constant influx of death-related jokes that Percy had been making that had been getting under her skin and making her extremely anxious, and her mood swings where Percy was concerned.

When Charlie called her out yesterday, it destroyed her. Mostly because she knew he was right.

How could she let him walk around looking and acting like _that?_ So broken, small and defeated. Spending _months_ telling him that Fred's death hadn't been bothering him!

She tried to think of that little four-year-old Percy that refused to sleep or eat. In the middle of the war, she took him to a healer because she had been so scared for him. Little four-year-old Percy that used to eat those muggle Pop-Tarts that Arthur got when he had visited America that once—without the flying toaster to heat them up mind you. She just found him covered in silver wrappers most of the time, trying to lick invisible chocolate or strawberry stains around his mouth with his tongue. Little _happy_ four-year-old Percy.

Molly could think about all the wrong things that she'd done in the past month. She knitted Percy his Christmas jumper for this year already, thinking that this was finally the year that he was going to wear one.

She packed him his Christmas jumper in a box that morning and decided that she was going to try and find where he was living now to give it to him. It was getting colder after all, and Percy now had no fat to insulate him from how cold it was outside, so she made sure that the jumper was made thicker than Percy's copy of _Prefects Who Gained Power_.

Her stomach lurched at the thought of going to that… _disgusting_ tattoo parlour to get an idea of where Percy lived now.

Molly just wanted to make sure that he was alright. She also needed to apologise to him, to talk to him about what had been happening to him since Fred had died… Molly felt like she'd not been playing her part as her mother very well. In fact, she felt like Percy had been taking over her part—he had to replace the bloody wallpaper for Merlin's sake because of how neglectful she' been! _AND_ she'd had a go at him for it!

Well, he was right. If she stepped up as a mother, he wouldn't have to do any of that.

The rows that she'd had with him! The things that she'd said to him! The things that she'd let _OTHER_ people say to him! When Ron told him that he'd wished that Percy had died instead of Fred! And she let him say that?

She didn't used to let Ron do so much as call him a ponce for spending so much time trying to tame his hair!

As the memories of what had been happening in the last few months swarmed her head, Molly found herself clutching tightly on the gift that she'd wrapped up for Percy. She was about to go downstairs to see Arthur, because she didn't feel like she could go to Knockturn Alley on her own... when she noticed these few pieces of paper crumbled in Percy's rubbish bin that she hadn't noticed there before. Yes. _Papers in a bin!_ And she was intrigued by it!

Of course, it was rubbish but something in her compelled to weed through that tidy, neat bin and get those papers out.

Molly unfolded the parchment paper. The ink was smudged all over the paper. He hadn't given it enough time to dry out before he'd decided to toss it in the bin. Her eyes scanned over his elegant, cursive handwriting that he'd been perfecting since she was a child. It was so pretty she bet he could make a career out of writing other people's letters!

 _Hello, Audrey. I like you a lot._

He had crossed that out and wrote underneath that in silver ink: _alright for a first-year in Hogwarts._

 _Hello, Audrey. I think I'm in love with you._

He crossed that out and wrote underneath that: _I doubt that that's something you should write in a letter._

 _Hello, Audrey. Answer my bloody owls._

He put a tick next to that and then wrote underneath that: _well, she likes art. She can read between the lines_.

Molly didn't remember smiling so much in a while now. She wished that he could've told her! _She_ wouldn't have problem helping him construct some sort of love note to the girl that he fancied! Molly hadn't heard him fancying a girl since that Penelope sort that he'd asked out in Hogwarts once… and she hadn't even met Penelope. Molly had to hear it from Charlie that Percy had even proposed to her, but she'd rejected him. She was so angry at him for not telling her that he thought of becoming engaged to a woman he'd never bought to the house, but she was fuming at her! Molly had heard recently from George that that tart had been cheating on her son all along!

Molly sighed in annoyance to herself. She opened another crumpled-up piece of paper.

They were numbers. They reached up to about _15_ , and then he'd crossed out the _16._

Beside the 16th one, he'd written: _Ginny asked me if I had anything to polish her broom with_.

The next line he'd done the same thing. That one reached to about _8_ , before he'd crossed out the _9_.

After the 9th one, he'd written: _shouldn't count_. _Heard George throwing temper tantrum. Comforted him_.

Molly didn't make sense of the numbers until she got to the end and then her heart practically stopped into her chest. That was when the heart stopping happened. At the end of the page, he had all but written: _I am recording the number of days that pass by without a single person speaking to me or acknowledging my existence because I am not depressed enough as it is apparently. Wonderful. I conclude from my very compelling data that it seems my existence is limited to me lending Ginny broom polish, comforting George every week or so, and getting yelled at by Ron. Just what I wanted._

Her hands were shaking after she read that. She tried to remember the last time that they talked—well, beside the awful disagreement they had yesterday that ended up with Percy storming out and Bill yelling about the fact that Percy couldn't just leave the family whenever he bloody liked to, and the Burrow wasn't his hotel.

Apparently, from the looks of the papers, the Burrow was more like a hotel. But Percy would interact more with the bloody staff than he would at home by the looks of things. How come she'd never noticed this before?

She walked downstairs, holding that wrinkled parchment paper in her tiny freckled hands.

She found Arthur sitting by his coffee, just like he did every morning at this time. He was nursing his coffee whilst reading a muggle magazine that he was fascinated by. Arthur tended to circle everything that he didn't know about, and then try to ask about it after. Molly found this endearing normally but not today.

Molly offered the parchment paper to her husband. "I… I found that in Percy's room this morning."

Arthur read the parchment paper and his face crumbled. "Oh."

He put the paper down and stared at it. "I… I knew that he was too thin at the funeral," Arthur began, "but Fred had just died and he had to arrange it after all! I… I thought that he'd take care of himself better after. George tells me he sleeps for most of the day if he's not at work—"

Arthur cut himself off. "Molly, George told me he works at a _TATTOO PARLOUR?_ He… he swore it on his life!"

Molly sat down beside him, and stiffened. She looked down at her feet. "Yes, Percy works at a tattoo parlour."

" _WHEN HE WAS FIFTEEN, HE WROTE A PETITION TO BAN ALL FORMS OF BODY ART!"_ Arthur yelled. Molly remembered that one vividly. Dumbledore wrote her an owl because he was so amused. Percy demanded that Dumbledore should make a statement by shaving off his beard because Percy counted 'ungodly hair-like growth' as body art as well. Molly was not as amused. " _What_ is he doing working at a tattoo parlour?"

"In Knockturn Alley," Molly added on calmly.

"In…" Arthur's eyes widened. "In _KNOCKTURN ALLEY?_ Merlin, Molly, you've got to be joking…"

She just nodded her head. "He insists on going anyway! I've tried to talk him out of it… I doubt the amount he's paying him in is worth turning up at all!"

Molly once snuck a look at his pay cheque just to make sure that he wasn't doing it for the money… and he _definitely_ was not doing it for the money. That amount he got paid wouldn't buy him a two-sickle hot chocolate in Diagon Alley.

She gave him a bigger allowance when he was in Hogwarts for Merlin's sake! And they were _POOR!_

"I…" Arthur said in a soft voice. "From your owls, I really thought that everything had been going well up until— _well_ —the row that happened yesterday. Percy having have stormed out again."

"I don't blame him this time, Arthur," Molly said sternly.

She looked at him, ashamed of herself. She was ashamed of how things spiralled so out of control after Fred had passed away. She knew that she was in shock. She was depressed. It was no excuse. George just lost his bloody twin. The attention should've been on him. The attention should've been on her family. The attention should've been anywhere but on herself.

"You remember how he was like after Fred died. Percy was the only one that managed to get through to George. But we… we let _GEORGE_ get to _US, Arthur!"_ Molly hadn't gotten her head wrapped around this. How could that happen? " _WE ARE HIS PARENTS FOR MERLIN'S SAKE!_ How is that supposed to be alright…? You know, Percy wanted to go to the Ministry to make them declare us unfit to take care of our own children! And the only reason that Kingsley didn't let that happen was because he knew us well, but it _could've_ happened, Arthur. And if it did, I'm not sure if it wouldn't have been well deserved. I let this house become _INFESTED!_ _I_ didn't lock the doors! _I_ put us in danger!"

Molly had never seen George act like that before. After Fred died, it felt like he had become a ghost. In five days, he'd destroyed their home and sent her into a state of depression where even she didn't recognise herself. Percy came back from his flat in London to try and fix it—and was not met with much gratitude unfortunately.

Even when George was starting to see his senses, she remembered that she certainly didn't!

"Percy had to _FORCE ME_ to take a bath!" Molly had gotten out of the fog enough to know how _wrong_ she had been! "Like I was his six-year-old child, Arthur. And _I_ fought him against it!"

"Love, you seem to have been forgetting something," she didn't know how Arthur was going to try and sugar coat this. Molly certainly wasn't… not that she needed to. She'd put on so much. She always ate loads when she was depressed—the opposite of little Percy. But he was _an extreme_ opposite! "You had _just_ lost your child."

" _THEY_ just lost their _BROTHER!_ _RON_ fought a war with _HARRY!"_ Molly reminded him. " _GEORGE_ lost his _TWIN!"_

Arthur was silent afterwards, and he nodded her head. "I…" he accepted this. "I'm sorry, Molly."

"And _I'm_ sorry," Molly's apology was sincere. "I'm… I'm very, very sorry. I'm… I'm sorry."

She flushed remembering when she remembered how she walked into Ron's room once, found him sobbing and punching walls and… left without even talking to him! She was _his mother_ for Merlin's sake!

He'd just been through something most experienced Aurors mightn't have ever gotten through! And she did nothing! No wonder he was lashing out afterwards. It wasn't like Ron could say much of anything to anyone. He and Harry had been having more frequent fights. He barely stayed in the house because he got so little comfort.

Most times, Ron just came back home _completely plastered!_

Her losing her child wasn't an excuse. She knew it wasn't an excuse. Now that the fog of depression had been lifting from her, she knew that she had to do something to remedy this. She didn't know how to fix this, but she wanted to try as hard as she could to mend everything that had happened between them. She knew that she hadn't been there for her children—nowhere near close even. Not for George, not for Ginny, or Ron, or Bill or Charlie or Percy or even her _husband_ —who had allowed himself to become addicted to a dangerous opioid-like substance. Mind you, she was blaming him too! He was _their father_ for Merlin's sake!

As she remembered all this, Molly also recalled the wonderful fact that _PERCY_ had to arrange the funeral. Even though Arthur just mentioned it not a few minutes ago, she hadn't really digested what that statement implied!

 _How was that alright?_ How had they accepted that? Did they want to _TRAUMATISE_ him?

George had walked downstairs by then. He was wearing a pair of trousers that were so _BRIGHT_ could've attract a dragon all the way from the Romanian reserve! Molly couldn't help but rush to him and hug him tightly.

She was so emotional in the last few hours. Everything seemed to dawn on her so clearly when Percy slammed that door in their face yesterday. It gave her a lot of food for thought. It made her sober up… and she hadn't even realised how pissed she'd been to begin with! George seemed to stiffen in her hold, but then he relaxed into her arms.

"Hi, mum!" George cheerfully said. "I'm off now!"

He pushed her away, because… well, she'd heard George describe her hugs as overbearing before.

"I'm going to go out with Angelina, Katie, Lee, Oliver and Alicia today!" he grabbed a fresh made brown bread roll from the table. "We're going to see this little show that they're putting on for the benefit of… I don't bloody know _BUT_ there is going to be _frogs_. Most importantly, _I_ might have a new item to put in the shop if all goes according to plan! I mean—I can't plan on opening the sodding thing without a new product range, right? Oh, and I'm too broke to open the damned thing. I need money to re-open it again!"

Before Molly could ask him more details about what product this was, George had apparated away.

She really hoped that she wouldn't receive an official letter from the Minister asking her to pay for the damages that her children caused to the public… _again_. Molly sighed deeply, but felt comforted in the fact that _George_ was going out!

 _George_. He who practically locked himself in his room all day these days!

A few days after that, Molly had managed to track down Percy's whereabouts. Unfortunately for her, one of Percy's co-workers happened to mention to her that Percy had gotten a new flat in Knockturn Alley. Which was just what she feared that he would've done! A flat in that vile, perilous place! _WHAT WAS HE THINKING?!_ Molly wouldn't get her most hated enemy even the daintiest-looking flat in one of these places, much less her flesh and blood!

Arthur was just as livid when he found out that information.

Molly's new mission was to get Percy to move out of his awful flat, and give him his Christmas jumper.

She talked to Arthur about it—Bill and Charlie had overheard the conversation and decided to chip in a few Galleons into the deal. George and Ginny willingly put in a sufficient amount themselves. With a lot of badgering from Ron, they'd even got him to put in some money. Oddly enough, he'd put in the most amount of anyone else. She didn't know if induction at the Aurors paid much but it was still a very welcome gift. Molly and Arthur used some of their retirement money. So now, they had enough money for a nice flat for a few months for Percy now.

Molly put all that money in one place, and wrapped it as a present for him. She'd written a note that it should be used for a flat—not unlike how she used to send him his allowance at Hogwarts and told him to use it very carefully.

She didn't think Percy was the kind to take that money and do something else entirely with it out of spite.

She didn't want to buy the flat keys now, knowing that Percy had a very analytical eye for that sort of thing. He was very particular about the flats that he stayed in—which surprised her knowing that he stayed in a flat in Knockturn Alley! What kind of flat in that Merlin forsaken place would meet _his_ extensive requirements?

On a Sunday morning, Arthur and Molly decided to visit Percy. Molly wore her new robes. She felt nice in them.

Arthur didn't feel her comfortable being around there, always looking around just in case something would happen. He was close by. He obviously didn't trust the people nor the place. Molly walked up the creaky stairs of an old abandoned flat complex in the middle of nowhere. The place wasn't fit for a rat really (even if that rat was Peter Pettigrew!), but Molly really hoped it looked better on the inside than it did outside.

She knocked on the door of the flat that the landlord said she could find Percy at. In only minutes, Percy half-opened the door and peered at them momentarily before slamming the door in their face.

Arthur's ears turned red. _"PERCY! OPEN THE DOOR!"_ he yelled. He wasn't exactly ecstatic about the fact that he'd just slammed the door in front of his wife's face—not that this was the first time really.

Molly knew that Percy kept a spare key. He always kept a spare. She picked up the small potted plant that Percy had in front of his door that nobody else had and found his spare right there. Oh, how did Percy get an O in Defence Against the Dark Arts if he kept his key so comically hidden?

"That wouldn't work without the countercharm for the locking charms he'd used," Arthur told her.

She just put the key in and twisted it. When it unlocked, her heart stopped in its chest.

"There is no locking charm to counteract," Molly said in a low voice.

Whatever anger was there in Arthur's eyes was replaced immediately by a mixture of horror and concern. Molly didn't know what kind of death wish Percy had not having a protective charm on the horrible flat that he rented in the middle of bloody Knockturn Alley!

She peered into the flat to try and see where Percy was at and found him hunched over his sink, pressing a wet towel to the left side of his face. Molly had never seen Percy in his work clothing before – gone were the official purple-and-gold Ministry robes over a perfectly fitted suit. In their place now was an all-black ensemble including black trousers, boots, a rolled-up button-down and a sleek black apron on top of that. Percy was also wearing a black cap, which he wouldn't do unless it was part of a uniform code because it made his bright red curls frizzy and wild.

Percy turned around and was so surprised that his parents were there that he nearly dropped the towel he was holding.

 _"WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN MY FLAT?!"_ Percy looked horror-struck. He was whiter than a ghoul. _"GET OUT!"_

"What do you mean get out?" Arthur didn't look happy about Percy's response.

Molly didn't feel comfortable. "Arthur, don't—"

When Arthur grabbed Percy, he pushed him to the wall. Molly grabbed Arthur's arm to try and push him away. Arthur loosened his grip around Percy and pulled his chin up to have a better look at him.

"What happened here?" Arthur said, looking at Percy's red, swollen-looking eye.

"An accident with a disinfectant at the tattoo parlour," Percy said, rubbing his puffy, seeping eye.

Molly walked towards the sink and then wetted the dry towel that he had been using with warm water.

She walked towards him and helped press it against his eye. Percy pressed it hard against his eye, and looked down at his feet. Molly took him towards his tattered-looking couch and sat down beside him.

"Why are you here?" Percy was still guarded. "How did you even find where I live?"

"We're your _parents_ for Merlin's sake, Percival. We were worried about you when we heard you-you had a flat in _this area!_ And look at it! I wouldn't let the ghoul live here! What were you thinking? It's not safe staying in here," Arthur told him firmly. "And I believe that Molly talked to this Rochelle girl from the tattoo parlour about—"

"I just decided I'm not particularly interested anymore," Percy suddenly cut his father off. "Get out of my flat."

He threw the towel away, and Molly flinched, feeling like her heart was just about to pound out of her chest.

Hermes suddenly swopped in, and started pecking at Molly's hair. She knew that owls didn't normally peck on people's hair, and they didn't try to tap on anyone's glasses either. But she couldn't blame him! _This flat was horrific!_

"Percy, listen to me, we are worried about you—" Molly was cut off instantly.

 _"Now?_ You're worried about me _NOW?"_ Percy's voice echoed. It sounded scratchy, like he'd been crying.

But Molly hadn't seen Percy cry since he was a child. She always assumed he was one of those people that couldn't.

"You've had _SEVEN MONTHS_ to worry about me!" Percy exploded, his hands shaking and his eyes looking redder by the second. "Now, I just want to be left alone! Is… is that understood?"

Percy then straightened himself. "And besides, mother, I thought you didn't care if I died miserable and alone."

"What gave you _THAT_ idea! I...!" Molly paused. She remembered the row that she had in his old flat ages ago. "Oh."

 _She had forgotten all about it! How could she have forgotten?_ As she wallowed in _sparrow_ , Molly placed the boxes that she'd bought for him, even though she was almost certain he'd send both her packages back to her, unopened.


	14. Chapter 14

**_comment replies:_**

 ** _malfoyravenclaw555:_** _i'm glad! i've been trying to incorporate more point of views but sometimes, they're so ridiculously hard to write!_

 _ **:** i love writing child Percy from someone else's perspective other than himself because he's so biased but i love it. "There's this twisted part of me that wants to see the rest of the Weasley family see the pain they caused Percy though." trust me. i have a lot of that i thought it came across way to much in some chapters! _

_**RavenclawIrene:** YES! this is the story where Fred's funeral was on the same day as Percy's birthday. _

_**Phoenixx Rising** **:** speaking of control his temper, he really couldn't in this chapter. i'll remedy that soon enough hopefully. though i think with Arthur, it's more like before he had this glow because he just got out of rehab and now, you're seeing him more like... "okay, the glow is gone. what am i going to do?" because addict Arthur is way more temperamental than actual Arthur. he has that 'i need a fix or a way to cope with this' type personality here. because even in the beginning, he wasn't so nice because of it. _

_**chemical violets** : oh my God, you should've slept and read this after. but i totally get it. i'm the same with the fanfics that always leave me off cliffhangers... i should probably stop doing that but i can't help myself and like after the 6-7 page of that chapter, i'm like, that's it. it's done. "Percy's connection to his objects is something i relate to—it's not nearly as bad as Percy's, of course—and watching him struggle to disconnect himself from items and connect with other people was so sad." i really like the way that's phrased. i tried to put a little bit of that baby Percy with his object obsession into older Percy translating that into his absolute adoration of Hermes. "A main part of the plot is neglect, and despite knowing that, I never quite processed just how starved of love Percy is. and that's actually great." you totally got that hammered on point! _

_**imagine forevermore** **:** that's so interesting that you have an autistic headcannon for Percy. i think he could potentially be somewhere on the autistic spectrum, but i'm not very good at writing it unfortunately._

 _ **Desires of Autumn Leaves:** always happy to bring a new meaning to Percy! i love him! he's my favourite character... well, it's a little obvious but still. i'm so happy to have you around and your two reviews made me smile so much. :)_

 _ **finkles89** : i have a love-hate relationship with writing Molly and Arthur... i think i have a bias to make them screw up, and then i'm like "but they're good people!" so i have to write a point of view chapter to justify it. i love writing them though. there's something so satisfying about Molly remembering stuff like that. _

_**irene2005** **:** oh! i like how you think! i totally made a comment about it in later chapters that i haven't edited, but i'm totally imagining that they, on some level, know that Percy's not himself too after Fred's death. even if they totally also hypocritically think that he's the same. "Never mind it's probably because he's not fully Percy (if that even makes sense)" oh, God, i love you. yes. definitely._

 _this was one of those chapters that when i got to the halfway point i got stuck at because like i couldn't make it flow, so i went and re-edited the whole part in the beginning._

* * *

 **Love and Old Black Shoes**

Chapter Fourteen

* * *

Arthur didn't know what to do with Percy anymore.

A mere _HOURS_ after they'd left, he sent them back their packages. Percy then sent them an owl writing about how he was not responding to either of their owls (if they bothered to send any) and that he had changed flats _AND_ jobs.

Ron looked amused when he found Percy's _I-don't-want-anything-to-do-with-you-leave-me-alone_ letter pinned to their fridge. "I suppose you'd told him you might've lost his copy of _Prefects Who Gained Power_. That, or you told him that Bill looks like he's about to turn any minute now. Not into a wolf mind you… more like a fire-breathing dragon."

Arthur was flustered because they _did_ lose his copy of _Prefects Who Gained Power_.

Well, it got lost in the fire when Bill threw it in a murderous rage, acting like more of an animal than a werewolf did.

At some point during the night, Arthur even considered combing his long coat of hair and taking him out for walkies!

When Molly came back from the tattoo parlour that day, she was sobbing. She didn't want to believe that Percy wasn't lying when he said that he'd swapped jobs and Arthur didn't know what to say to try and calm her down.

"Molly, it's alright!" Arthur told him. "Now, now, he could find a _proper_ job! One that can pay for a good flat and one that doesn't involve him nearly going blind because-because of a disinfectant accident gone wrong!"

Arthur had been having nightmares of Percy walking in the Burrow, looking like a ginger version of Mad-Eye Moody.

"No, he can't!" Molly yelled back. "The Minister gave him a letter— _George_ told me! He said with that letter, Percy would be lucky enough to find someone that'll let him walk their illegally bred crups out!"

Charlie, who was standing by the kitchen door, had been busy eavesdropping on their conversation at the time.

"Do you know what _letter_ he was talking about?" Molly shrieked, his lovely wife's hair looking like his did after the flying toaster incident. "I didn't know at the time, but I've rationalised what kind of letter would make _that_ much impact—it's the same ruddy letter that most people give to Azkaban prisoners on the day they get released!"

"This is all because he told Kingsley that he wanted to declare you two legally inept?" Charlie asked. "Bloody hell."

If Percy was here, he'd be surprised that Charlie knew the word _inept_.

Molly crossed her arms. "Yes, and now—now knowing the amount that I know my child makes, I'm even more glad for him taking the amount I've sent in for a new flat. I'm sure that if he didn't, then poor Percy only would only have enough money now to either be living in the Shrieking Shack, a very fancy cardboard box that would make a flobberworm jealous or… he'd booked himself a room in The Three Broomsticks Inn!"

"I really hope he hasn't gotten desperate enough for a room at The Three Broomsticks," Charlie concluded.

They spent the whole of December sending him owls to come back home.

At first, it was just Molly, but Arthur read her owls before she had Errol send them off. They _really_ got to him.

After the first few days without Percy in the house, he remembered that familiar empty feeling he had during the war when he came back, and he saw that the Weasley family clock had accepted that Percy had a new home now.

His heart ached so much that Arthur had even taken off Percy's handle off the clock, so he wouldn't have to look at it!

In fact, during the war, Arthur remembered taking pictures of little Percy with him to work just because he had missed him so much. And that feeling came back tenfold in only a few days of him not being there.

Arthur didn't think he'd miss Percy, right after him telling them to get out of his flat and then sending back his mother's Christmas jumper for the hundredth year in a row. The thought of having a holiday without Fred was crippling. The thought of _not_ having a holiday without Fred _and_ Percy was almost unfathomable.

How could he call it a holiday then? And what kind of holiday was _Percy_ going to have in whatever damp, horrific flat he'd managed to find within his non-existent price range.

Honestly, Arthur just didn't understand how Percy could be so broke. He had an inkling of how much money he had made as junior assistant to the Minister. Perkins and a few other people had confirmed it to him as well. He'd been inside Percy's flat before—it was standard, boring and lifeless. The only memorable thing was that Percy had finally bought himself a decent bookshelf. Well, decent enough that didn't look like it would collapse in a less than a fortnight. Otherwise, even his fruit bowls looked like he'd bought him half-off from a one-eyed gypsy… well, at least that was how Molly got the same identical ones at least.

So _WHERE_ did the rest of that money go to exactly?

Did Percy have a gambling problem he didn't know about? Did Percy get into debt for another reason? Did he spend all that money trying to impress a woman that rejected him? Arthur didn't know—and not knowing was killing him!

The more he thought about it, the more he realised that he had no idea what Percy was doing for several years in his life. He might as well have been a stranger. That left him very unsettled and shaken.

Of course, Arthur kept these thoughts to himself. He couldn't tell it to his wife, who needed calming down most times. He could barely talk to Perkins about it now! They were in two different departments since Arthur had gotten his promotion. All the new people around him were stiffer than a plank of old wood.

Oh, and he'd let himself spiral out of control after Fred's death. Potion abuse? It wasn't like him at all!

He felt like things couldn't be fixed in his family anymore. Percy left ages ago, and just when Arthur came back from the rehabilitation centre, ready to stitch things up between them—he was gone. Arthur hadn't even been there _a day!_

Did Arthur do something so horrible that he didn't know about that made Percy loathe him so much?

He could barely remember the things that he'd said to Percy when they were having that row ages ago that made him leave in the first place. Arthur would go as far as to say that he didn't remember what Percy said back to him either.

Everyone else did, but he didn't. He knew that Percy was ashamed of him. He could remember that vividly.

That year's Christmas Eve was horrific. Christmas Day was even worse. Percy's place was very noticeably vacant now that the family had been pieced back together and his son's new disappearance had sparked a few rows in the family.

 _"IT'S NOT MY FAULT PERCY LEFT! IT'S YOUR FAULT!"_ George had been yelling that at Ron for about three hours and throwing empty plates at him a few hours after their livid Christmas dinner. _"AND MUM AND BILL!"_

"I didn't grab the git's suitcase and filled it for him after the measly row that he had!" Ron yelled back.

 _"YOU LEFT HARRY AND HERMIONE! YOU CAME BACK! THEY TOOK YOU BACK! YOU'VE HAD ROWS WITH HARRY BEFORE WHERE YOU DIDN'T TALK TO HIM FOR A WHILE! HARRY HASN'T CALLED YOU A GIT!"_ George paused for a moment. "Much," he said in a low, tired voice. He'd been getting worse since Percy had left.

In fact, Arthur didn't know how George could get so bad so quickly.

George was affecting everybody— _again_.

Molly was crying in the kitchen every day. Ron was throwing temper tantrums, and getting out to get plastered more often. Ginny was throwing her own temper tantrums about how things had begun to unravel, and she also threw temper tantrums about how many temper tantrums that Ron threw in the bloody week.

Bill refused to visit the Burrow because all the rows that'd they'd been getting into. He'd even refused to go back to Shell Cottage. Apparently, he'd been working late so often that by the time that he came home, he was too exhausted to do anything about it and Fleur had noticed the dramatic change.

Whenever Arthur saw Bill these days, he looked like he was about to literally die from exhaustion.

Charlie was so depressed he couldn't even contemplate getting the arrangements done to head back to Romania.

They were in an everlasting debt because Arthur wasn't working late like he should be. Bill couldn't help because he had to spend all his money on his family. Ron was busy helping pay for Ginny's wedding preparations.

Ginny had just gotten a job in the Holyhead Harpies. They hadn't really celebrated that.

But Arthur knew that whatever money she made, it would obviously go to her wedding arrangements. Arthur bet that if the house sunk under, at least Ginny would have the princess style wedding that she'd always dreamed of having.

 _YOU'RE the family man!_ Arthur told himself whenever he had that thought regarding Ron and Ginny pitching in for her wedding preparations. _YOU'RE the one who's supposed to be paying for her wedding! YOU have no right to complain about the fact that nobody's lending you a hand in maintaining their family home! That's YOUR job!_

Percy dropped off the face of the Earth, and even if he hadn't, he earned so little he'd need a year's worth of his own laughable salary to go into Honeyduke's and buy whatever his heart desired.

Arthur couldn't help it, but when Percy sent back the packages, he'd hidden the one that was filled with the money. He used it to pay for some necessary things for the Burrow. Important things that they needed to continue _living_ in it.

Molly was under the blissful assumption that Percy had used it to pay for a new flat.

Every few days, George went on crying and shouting spells. He was crumbling so quickly. Arthur didn't know how much he could take it anymore! To be completely honest, Arthur had been secretly going out for drinks with his mates from the Auror department during the week… and then telling Molly that he was working late to make up for the time he'd been toiling away at the rehab centre! He honestly felt ashamed of it, but he couldn't help himself.

Those two or three drinks he had were the only thing that kept his sanity. _But_ he couldn't pay for those two or three drinks. _And_ he shouldn't be having those two or three drinks. _And_ he was _lying_ to his wife about them!

Finding it hard to get by another day with all that weighing on his conscious, Arthur decided that today was going to be _the last day_ he went for a drink with his mates! Tomorrow, he really was going to be working late!

Arthur had his new promotion from Kingsley and he was throwing it away every night he was out like this!

If he really did stay in late at work, he wouldn't be in such emotional turmoil over everything!

Even though he was in the pub again— _for the last time_ he told himself repeatedly, Arthur couldn't help but feel this surge of lightness in his belly. This new pub had a nice vibrant scene. There were so many bright lights around… there was this funny feeling in the pit of his stomach though. Something that told Arthur this pub was not like the other pubs he'd been to that week! He couldn't think of why he had that feeling.

He froze when he saw Ron having have just walked in, with Harry following him.

"I'm not talking to George!" yelled Ron vehemently. "I'm not even talking to _you_ , Harry."

"Then talk to Hermione! Talk to someone!" Harry's face was slicked with sweat. "At least have the decency to get plastered in a pub that doesn't look like it's fit for things you find at the bottom of the ocean!"

Ron snorted. "You know all about the things that you find at the bottom of the ocean," Arthur didn't like the mischievous look in Ron's cold blue eyes. "What about _the new thing_ in the Auror Department that tried to ask you out last Thursday when you were showing Ginny around? I've never seen her laugh so hard in my life."

"She laughed harder when you told her that you're better at Quidditch than she is," Harry offered.

"I _am_ better at Quidditch than she is!" replied Ron.

"She's part of the Holyhead Harpies!" Harry tried to grab Ron's arm to no avail. "Mr Weasley?"

Arthur froze in his place. "Harry! I… I didn't see you there," _but I'd been staring at you for ten minutes now_. Very smooth.

He _really_ needed a drink to cope with this.

"What are you doing here?" Ron didn't look pleased. "Mum told me that you were working late!"

"I… I was, but…" Arthur stammered, running his hand through… whatever was left of his hair at that point.

"But then you decided to go out for a late-night drink with your mates now, did you?" Ron sounded hostile.

"I suppose that's like the pot calling the cauldron black!" Arthur yelled back at him.

 _"I'M NOT THE ONE IN DEBT!"_ Ron shouted back at him.

"Ron!" Harry placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Get off, Harry! This is none of your business!" Ron responded, and before Harry could mention it—because he knew that he would've, Ron also said: "no, you're not family! You aren't married to Ginny yet so stay out of it!"

"You're not thinking clearly," Harry told him in a matter-of-fact voice. "And this is before you've had a drink!"

"I'm thinking just fine," Ron's lip wobbled a little bit. He walked over towards the bar, and Arthur followed him, trying to explain his situation to Ron—who didn't look like he was having any of it.

"I want the strongest firewhiskey that you have," said Ron in a temperamental voice, slouching against the counter.

The bartender that was standing there laughed and mentioned that his shift was over. He had someone else to come in and cover him in a minute. Ron didn't look like he understood why the bastard couldn't pour him one now.

"You should wait a little. Cool down. _Reconsider your options_ before you do something you might regret," said the bartender bloke that had biceps bigger than Charlie's—which Arthur didn't think was possible. "Look. I'm a big bloke. I work out a lot. I can probably bench a little lad like you with my eyes closed. If _I_ take a shot of the strongest firewhiskey we've got available, then I'd be sitting on the ground sideways, praying to Merlin for salvation."

Ron straightened himself up and balled his hands into fists. "I'll make you pray to Merlin for salvation—"

 _"OKAY!"_ Harry tried to pull Ron away but for a thin bloke like him, he sure was hard to move.

Arthur placed his hand on Ron's shoulder, as he watched the bartender apparate away.

"I don't want to talk to you!" Ron shouted. "Go see your mates, Dad! Leave me alone! Or… _OR I'LL TELL MUM!"_

 _His mates!_ Arthur looked around to see where they sat at… but they'd gone! That was strange.

Arthur bet that it had something to do with this funny feeling he had in his stomach. He looked around and then felt the colour drained out of his face. Ron and Harry's facial expressions changed too.

"Oi!" Ron shook Harry by his shoulder. "This pub is for… _those_ kind of blokes and woman."

If Hermione was there, she'd have shouted at him for being so insensitive.

 _Those_ kinds of blokes and woman! Really! Arthur didn't mind blokes that… well, _liked other blokes_. And he didn't mind women that… did things with other women. He just didn't want to be in a pub with them all!

Oh! That explained why the bartender's uniform looked more like something belong to the Quiberon Quafflepunchers.

No wonder why his mates left. Arthur rationalised. They'd probably never even seen two blokes snog each other. The blokes that Arthur was looking at seemed to be hitting it off rather well! They might go back to the flat for a nightcap!

"I can't tell the blokes from the women," Ron suddenly mentioned. Harry seemed to agree with him with a slow nod.

"I think the women don't have beards…" Arthur suggested, but then changed his mind promptly.

"Merlin," Ron's eyes widened. They looked like they were about to leap out of their sockets. "I went to the lavatory here. Do you think I'm going to be alright? I won't die from one of… _those_ diseases then?"

Harry inched away from Ron and closer to Arthur. "They might think we're together!" he told Ron, who cringed.

Arthur cleared his throat. "Well, I think that… that's the end of this evening!"

"Not for me!" Ron decided, shaking his head vehemently. "I need a bloody drink just to process all this! Where's the other bartender? I don't care if he's a poof… I just want a bloody drink!"

Arthur cleared his throat. Ron shouldn't say words like that in these kinds of pubs.

"Ron, I think that you should…" Arthur paused when he noticed the incredulous look passing Ron's face.

"You have got to be fucking joking," said Ron in horrified voice when only about ten minutes afterwards did Percy weeded through the crowd of drunken man to get behind the counter. He put his rucksack aside, dressed in the same ensemble the other bloke before them was—in _shockingly pink robes_. "You know, Perce, you didn't have to leave home to hide your sexuality issues. I never believed that you liked that Penelope sort anyway."

"Shut up," Percy glared at Ron with an angry facial expression, waving around his arms—the sleeves of his robes which were covered with enough glitter to make Dumbledore's robes look dull. "It's bad enough that I have to wear these-these ridiculous robes! I look like I'm advertising for _Madam Primpernelle's Beautifying Potions!_ Except for the fact that even _I_ , the bloke that has as much weight on me as Celestina Warbeck post-Weight Loss Miracle Potions, still manage to be at least a stone heavier than the last model that she used! The one that died of complications related to starvation _three days_ after the advertisement was shot!"

Percy looked horrified. "I-I look like I've just stolen something that _died_ in Dolores Umbridge's closet!"

Harry cocked his head to one side, admiring Percy's pink robes. "Or Pansy Parkinson's."

"I feel so much better," Percy muttered in annoyance. He ran his hand through his hair. " _I have to go out in public like this!_ I look like an oversized, humanised version of a Puffskein after it got lost in a forest made from glitter!"

"I think it suits you," Harry was sure that if Percy got even angrier, he'd match his robes.

Arthur was just stunned. It had been a month since he'd last seen Percy. Now, he found him in a gay pub wearing a pair of pink robes. He didn't know how to convey this message to Molly without her getting the wrong idea.

"So, you're a bartender now?" Arthur asked quietly. Tattoo parlour! Bartender! What next?

Percy shot his father a look. "I am not a bartender!" he fumed. "I am a _MIXOLOGIST!"_

Arthur watched Harry and Ron burst into laughter. Ron looked like he didn't need the alcohol after all.

Percy looked at Arthur with a steely look in his eyes. "What are _you_ doing here?"

He needed a drink to cope with the fact that he needed to ask his son for a drink! Arthur bet that Percy would take one look at him and tell him to give him a cranberry juice for the impaired immunity that came with old age—and then have a go at him for what he was doing to the Burrow with his _alcoholism and dependency and addiction_ …

"Come on," Harry grabbed Ron's arm, who now actually went along with him. Ron was laughing so hard that Arthur thought that he might burst a blood vessel in his head. "Let's take you back to the Burrow!"

They apparated off before Arthur's eyes and he was left alone. Arthur straightened his back and sighed.

"Is this the best job that you could find?" Arthur asked seriously.

Percy slowly nodded his head and leaned against the counter. That was not like him at all. He looked defeated.

"Well, I…" Arthur wanted to leave, but he didn't want to go home to that empty feeling in his belly again. He didn't know how to convince Percy to come back home with him. "It's not a very good one."

"Really?" Percy feigned a look of shock, placing his hand on his chest. "Because I was under the impression that it's absolutely brilliant… I _especially_ enjoy the fact that I get off at work at about eight in the morning!"

He looked very vulnerable then, his freckled hands shaking.

"Let me take you home," Arthur insisted, trying to get through to Percy somehow. "At least back to your flat."

 _"This is my flat!"_ Percy replied. "They have bedrooms… well, _not_ strictly used for living in but they don't complain."

Arthur couldn't believe that what Percy was telling him. So, the past month, he'd been living in a gay pub? The kind of gay pub that had bedrooms so that blokes could… socialise in, and Percy was sleeping in one of _those_ beds?

He spent the next hour trying to convince Percy to come with him home—even if he might have one of _those_ diseases from sleeping in those bedrooms upstairs. After the hour was done with, Percy decided to act responsibly and opened up a bottle of Ogden's firewhiskey. He poured a shot for himself.

"Percy, drink that—" Arthur watched Percy gulp that shot in about a second. _"Slowly."_

"Oh," Percy said, looking at the empty shot glass. "Don't worry. I will drink the next one slowly."

"Oh, that's al—…" Arthur paused. _"Next one?"_ he screeched. "You get plastered in here? Regularly?"

"How else do you think I can tolerate the fact that I'm in these ridiculous robes, and the fact that I have to sleep on that- _that putrid, unhygienic mattress?_ I've used every cleaning charm under the sun and I still for the life of me can't get rid of that artificial strawberry scent from that- _that Merlin forsaken bed!"_ Percy held the bottle closer to him, his cheeks getting redder. "And I haven't the daftest where that smell comes from—nor do I want to know!"

Needless to say, as the night went on, Arthur realised that the more Percy drank, the more hysterical he became.

By the time that it was three am, Percy was so drunk that he decided to take off his robes, dance on the top of a table whilst singing. He sounded like a Kneazle drowned in hot oil.

Arthur tried to stop him from doing that—honestly, he did, but Perfectly Plastered Percy was not having any of it.

After singing three hits by the Rhythmic Runes, Arthur finally managed to get Percy down.

Fortunately, Percy was not the type to go out without any underneath his robes—unlike Bill or Charlie. Arthur wondered if Percy normally wore thick, fuzzy broomstick pyjamas underneath his robes.

Arthur took off his robes and let Percy have it, considering that he was trembling like he'd eaten a packet of Ice Mice.

He placed his hand on Percy's shoulder and guided him out of the pub. Arthur knew that it was very late, and Molly would make him regret it now that he'd have to really mention what he'd been doing with his nights. But she would be so relieved to figure out that Percy was fine and not dead somewhere in a manky, old flat.

 _Don't worry, Molly! Percy doesn't have a flat after all! He just used the guest rooms in a gay pub he works at to sleep in!_

As they walked out of the pub, Arthur noticed Percy shaking even more. He brought the robes closer to him. Even though it was three am, Percy looked like he was very awake—and if his shifts normally ended at eight in the morning as he previously mentioned, he could see why. Percy slept around the time that most people woke up!

"What are you _doing?_ " Percy waved his arm around dramatically. "Didn't I tell you to get out of my flat the last time? Didn't I send numerous letters mentioning how I want no form of contact whatsoever? Didn't I explicitly tell you I want nothing to do with you when you and mum came to see me at my old flat?"

Arthur had just about had enough. "I will drag you back to that house if I have to, Percival."

Percy's eyes were gleaming in the light. He laughed. It sounded like he had a glumbumble stuck in his throat.

"What's so funny?" Arthur's temper was running thin. Whilst Percy was still wide awake, Arthur was exhausted and had been ready to call it a night ages ago. But he was not about to leave Percy in _that place!_

Percy just kept on laughing and it was really irritating him.

"I will drag you," Arthur threatened—and then he grabbed Percy's arm as tightly as he could. He pulled him, making him trudge his feet into the three inches of snow that were in. "I'm not joking, Percival."

"Neither am I," Percy said in a slurred voice, with a serious facial expression. "I refuse to go home."

Arthur forced Percy to take a few more steps. Percy was trying hard to unsuccessfully wiggle out of Arthur's iron-clad grip. Fortunately for Arthur, Percy was about the half the size of Errol and ate about as much.

"This is unfair," Percy decided, sounding like he was about six years old. "I'm not a child."

"When you stop acting like one, I'll stop treating you like one," Arthur told him sternly.

Percy was acting ridiculous! By the time that he was Percy's age, he'd been busy taking care of _two children!_

" _You've_ been acting childish all your life, but _I'm_ not allowed to treat you like one," as Percy spoke, Arthur felt his blood boil. "Mind you that _I'm_ not the one that still plays with faulty muggle toys and then tries to call it a living!"

Arthur's patience was being tested. He knew that he and Percy had fought before regarding his choice of work. He had almost forgotten how it felt like for his son to see him as completely incompetent, but he had to confess that the feelings and emotions were coming back to him faster than he could ever imagine!

"Oh, you'd rather I work at a _tattoo parlour?"_ Arthur snapped. "Or maybe you want me to work as a _mixologist_ in a job that requires me to wear a pair of pink robes and allows me to get so sloshed I start singing on top of tables?"

Percy's lips were wobbling, and Arthur was sure it didn't have anything to do with the cold.

Arthur felt a momentary feeling of self-satisfaction knowing that he had said something that Percy couldn't reply to.

"Stay close to me. There are so many crups around here. They might attack your leg, thinking it's a giant bony treat," Arthur snippily said, and Percy just shot him another venomous look.

Percy took a sobering potion. Arthur was surprised he even needed one given their very coherent argument.

Arthur apparated them away from the building by then, because Arthur had just calmed down enough that he was about to apparate them without worrying he'd splinch himself.

The Burrow looked so warm, spacious and homey compared to that damp, dingy little pub!

Percy apparently had a new fascination with places that were so old that even the mould had abandoned it!

Arthur walked inside and saw that Molly was rubbing her tired-looking chocolate-brown eyes on the couch, waiting for him like she used to do with Bill when he went out late at night with his mates. She looked exhausted.

"Why are you so…" Molly was fuming, but her anger melted away almost immediately. _"Percy?"_

She ran up to them and stared at Percy with wide eyes, like she couldn't believe like he was standing there. He'd only been gone a month, but Arthur knew that it felt like it had been much longer than that for her.

"Are you tired? Oh, you must be tired," Molly said, suddenly energised. "I've not touched your bed since you've left. Well, besides tidying it up of course. And I've put on a nice new duvet for you. I've put a few warming charms in your rooms and candles too. I hope you don't mind that I chose that-that… I don't know what scent it is? Strawberry?"

Percy winced. Arthur remembered Percy talking about the strawberry scented beds in the gay pub.

"It's fine," Arthur said before Percy had a chance to say anything. Percy shot him a look.

"I've made a quiche for dinner, along with a salad and chicken breasts. Do you want any?" Molly asked.

"Yes, I'm famished," Percy sounded like he meant it as well. It really threw her off because she didn't expect it.

Molly nodded her head. "We could sit and talk about—"

"On second thought, I've lost my appetite," Percy's discourtesy was getting to Arthur. He wanted to kill him. Percy must be toying with his own mother's emotions on purpose! _That was no way to talk to your mother, Percival!_

"You ungrateful little brat!" Arthur tried to say it in the nicest way possible… it didn't work.

Percy blinked repeatedly, like he was trying not to cry. Arthur was almost sure that was just about impossible because his sweet son was made purely made from stone.

"You _FORCED_ me to come back to this house! I'm not going to bloody well dance about it!" Percy told Arthur.

"Maybe you'll change your mind after a few shots of firewhiskey," Arthur watched Percy pale.

 _"Arthur!"_ Molly didn't look happy with his tone.

Percy stared at him with a look that made something sink into Arthur's stomach. Like Percy had just lost whatever little respect that he had for him. The look was seriously unnerving Arthur. It was undeserved.

"You make me wish I was dead," Percy suddenly said, his voice filled with anger.

"Then why don't you—" Arthur paused, his heart pounding in his chest. He could feel Molly's glare set on him.

"Why don't I _what?"_ Percy repeated, looking as defeated as he did at that bar. _"Die?"_

Arthur was flustered. He didn't know why it was so easy to spin things so out of control with Percy. One moment, they were talking about his flat and the second, they ended up _here_. "I did not say that."

"Oh, don't worry. I completely believe you," Percy said curtly. "Goodnight, Father. Mother." He gave them both a nod, and then climbed up the stairs.

He paused midway, looking down at Arthur. Percy then gave him a look that could've made Fred shiver in his grave.


	15. Chapter 15

_i am way too tired to do comments' reply thing and if i did, this chapter would've at least taken 2-3 more days. it is not well-edited (i'm sorry but i am i'm so tired), so please excuse any possible spelling or grammar mistakes. as i said before, English is not my first language! this is a Percy POV chapter after the last two non-Percy POV's. there is SO MUCH going on in this chapter i love it._

* * *

 **Love and Old Black Shoes**

Chapter Fifteen

* * *

Percy collapsed into a heap on his old bed, suffocated by the scent of strawberries. _Strawberries!_ Out of all the scents in the world that she could find a candle for, it had to be _strawberries!_

Tears streamed down his sunken, freckled cheeks. _THOSE SODDING LIARS!_

Percy grabbed his pillow and buried his head into it. He screamed into it like… well, the vitriolic five-year-old he was.

His stomach lurched again as the scent of those noxious strawberry fumes wafted to his abused nostrils.

Although he spent the last few months shaking more than a bloke under the Cruciatus, Percy was suddenly warmer than a Kneazle in heat… _and_ he felt like he'd just been stabbed repeatedly in the heart. _ALL BECAUSE OF THEM! THEM! THEM! THOSE SODDING LIARS TRYING TO TELL HIM… LIES!_

When he'd been trying to get their attention for months as he tried to mend his discombobulated family together, he received only accusations, a polite (and sometimes not so polite) _Sod Off, You Git_ and numerous death threats.

When Percy had decided that there was little left to mend at home and he wanted to distance himself from his family as much as he could before he did the deed (he did not want them to _mourn_ him after all, even though that seemed physically impossible given the fact that they wouldn't treat a Kneazle like they did him—after all, they'd make sure the Kneazle ate every day!), then they decided they simply couldn't get enough of him and _they missed him._

 _Bloody lies_ , Percy decided to himself. They just wanted him to rot in this room forever. They didn't care _what_ he was doing in this stupid room—nor were they interested—but he had to be there whilst he did it!

 _We don't care at all what YOU want, but we NEED you back at home!_ Percy mocked his parents, his hands shaking with every single thought that violently thrashed its way into his swollen skull.

 _Now, that you're back in that room, we'll forget that you ever existed like we had been for the past seven months!_

His face was sticky and wet from the crying that he'd been doing, but as more thoughts swarmed in his brain, a new trail of white-hot tears cascaded down his cheeks. Percy was _not_ sat there, hugging his knees to his chest. _No_ , he was sat there clinging onto his knees to protect himself from his own bloody self. _Look at him!_ Perfect Prefect Percy, demoted from the bloke that was the junior assistant to the Minister for Magic to this pathetic creature whose highlight of the day was fantasising about the suicide schematic he'd been planning for more than half a year now! In fact, he was so intent on killing himself that it took him all his mental capacity not to do it every bloody day!

He laid back down on his back, grabbing fistfuls of curly red hair into his hands.

Percy bet if they knew what was going on in his head, they'd realise how utterly _pathetic_ he was.

He turned to the side and saw that Hermes had stolen a giant oat-y, seedy looking flapjack for him from the kitchen.

Percy took a few deep breaths before he took the flapjack away from Hermes' jaw. He had stopped trying to tell Hermes that he didn't want to eat anything, mostly because he didn't want to disappoint his owl anymore. Almond butter, raw cocoa nibs and oats filled his mouth as he chewed the flapjack. There was no form of margarine or oil used to make this! This bloody thing was just about as dry as old Madam Malkin's— _err_ … he would not finish the sentence.

Here he was having a mental breakdown and still casually scoffing a flapjack. The world ceased to make any sense!

Percy was calmer right then, and decided to walk downstairs to get himself a cup of tea.

The house was empty then, but as he was just about to put the kettle on, he could hear sounds of yelling outside.

Percy peered into the backdoor, and all he saw was a muscular George pinning down thin Ron to the ground and screaming obscenities at him. Ron wasn't helping—he just continued curse George's existence. George was currently sporting an old black-eye and a bruised, bleeding lip whereas Ron's cheek and eye looked swollen. His loving brothers!

George's grip loosened on Ron's Auror robes when he saw Percy standing there.

He sat up, a look of incredulity on his face. George didn't look particularly happy to see Percy there.

 _"YOU!"_ George called out in anger. _"YOU…!"_ he waved his finger in accusation of… _something_.

"Yes?" Percy replied, not noticing how inaudible his own voice was.

"You…" George grabbed a fistful of his short, straight red hair. "You… _ugh!"_

George's facial expression softened dramatically. He stood up and ran over to Percy, wrapping his arms around him as hard as he could. He buried his head into his shoulder. Percy had lost count of how many times people saw him, shouted at him and then hugged him. Percy had also lost how many times he'd told them he hated hugs.

Ron was glowering at Percy. "Didn't find yourself at the gay pub like you'd expected to?"

Percy's lower lip was trembling. He was so vulnerable that that little comment wounded him greatly.

"Gay pub, Perce?" George was grinning, a sparkle in his eyes. "Well, I'm not surprised. I knew that when I caught you reading that book about homosexual behaviourisms, it wasn't for educational purposes."

Percy sighed. Curiosity really did kill the Kneazle—and made him into a laughing stock!

"Sod off," Percy mumbled in irritation. "It was the only pub that allowed me to sleep in their beds after I was done with my wonderful ten to eight shifts. Without charging me for using their mattresses of course."

Percy suddenly recalled the fact that Arthur was appalled when he learned that Percy drank during his job!

Well, from what he'd gathered at that night in the pub, Arthur, the bloke that just came from an _ADDICTION CENTRE_ , drank every bloody night and he didn't have to sleep in a room covered in _someone else's bodily fluids!_

That thought was depressing Percy. He started to feel a fire burn in his tightening chest. He was really upset.

"You slept in their _beds?"_ Ron reiterated. He looked disgusted. "Perfect Prefect Percy that uses every cleaning charm under the sun when he has to use someone else's robes, now sleeping in a bed that poofs regularly _socialise_ in?"

Socialising? Percy didn't know what they did to that pillow, but it was inhumane! Even for a heterosexual couple!

George's facial expression suddenly softened again. He didn't look like he found this amusing anymore.

"George?" Ron noticed this too. "What's wrong? You don't think you whacked me hard enough, you bastard?"

George did not find this amusing either. He must really be sad—or sick with a fatal case of dragon pox.

"You'd…" George locked eyes with Percy, his eyes were flashing with a gut-wrenching mixture of anger and hurt. "You'd rather stay in a vile room in an awful gay pub than come back home to the Burrow?"

George's eyes watered and his stocky shoulders started to shake. _"How fucking dare you?"_

Percy's cheeks coloured in darkly. "Well, George, it really is all purely based on semantics. I—"

George looked at him with this look that made Percy's stomach sink. "You always kept on leaving the house…" he rationalised. "And _I_ was…"

"—did not particularly want to stay in a vile room in an awful gay pub as you theorised, nor did I prefer it to the Burrow but for that particular sect of time, I believed that it would be best for me to open my mind to new experiences…" Percy kept on rambling nervously. He was sure what he said made no sense.

 _"I WAS A FOOL!"_ George screamed, shaking his head. Percy didn't think that he'd noticed George looking this shattered and alone—not even when he had to hold Fred's cold, unmoving body and accept the fact that two had just become one. "I was _SO BLOODY STUPID_ to think that you actually cared about anyone other than yourself!"

Percy couldn't say anything to that. Ron looked equally surprised by George's outburst.

"If Dad didn't drag you here, you would've never come back, would you?" George asked. _"WOULD YOU?"_

Percy opened his mouth to speak, but he didn't know what to say. What could he say to that?

 _No, George, I wouldn't have come back to the Burrow because my initial plans involved me alienating myself from the family to the point where you've forgotten I've existed and then slowly disappear from the face of the Earth. Unfortunately, you seem to notice when I am not in my room, so I have now been forced to come back here and re-evaluate exactly how I am going to die—_

 _"I TRUSTED YOU!"_ George suddenly broke Percy out of his thoughts.

Percy didn't know what George trusted him for, but he still felt just as bad.

Tears silently rolled down George's cheeks. "How…" his hands were balled into fists and Percy believed that if he got struck right now, he'd be fully deserved. "How did you get that?" he pointed to Percy's arm. His arm was covered, of course, but Percy knew he was referring to the somewhat obvious burn mark extending from his wrist to his shoulder.

"What do you think happened...?" Percy asked in a low voice.

George looked like he was contemplating the lines between the cold, hard truth and the fabricated lies that Percy had been making up. Unfortunately, it looked like it had come to bite him on the arse.

" _I_ don't think… _I've_ not gotten enough O.W.L's to think!" George snapped.

Percy tried to move towards George to talk to him, console him somehow but George just moved away.

As he watched George practically ran away from him like a rabbit afraid of being attacked and chewed out by a chimera, Percy felt his chest tighten as he stared at the ground.

"What happened to George?" Percy hadn't expected to say that out loud. He was so confused.

" _YOU_ happened, you nosy little git!" Ron didn't sound as angry as Percy thought he would've been considered George just confessed that Percy had broken him into tiny little pieces just by being his wonderful, charismatic self. "We were bloody fine! We were all doing better— _I_ was doing better! Then you bloody left, and it _destroyed_ him. But I'm glad that you left, Perce, because now, he sees you for what you really are."

Ron looked at him straight in the eye. "You're a _monster_."

Percy felt like he'd been hit violently by something extremely hard and cold. In his big, swollen head, he believed that words like that were reserved for Death Eaters and murderous, psychotic felons.

 _"HE LOST HIS TWIN FOR MERLIN'S SAKE!"_ Ron yelled out like Percy had forgotten that Fred existed.

Like Percy wasn't the one that arranged Fred's funeral! Like he hadn't been the one that stayed with George that day, even though they'd decided to schedule the service on the last birthday he had ever planned to ever have!

Just when he thought that he couldn't think any lowlier of himself, his family proved otherwise.

Percy didn't know what to believe. He didn't know who in Merlin's name he was. Was he really that bad of a person that even when he tried his hardest to be good, he failed? Was he doomed to fail from the start because he was Perfect Prissy Percy that couldn't understand how anyone felt if it was written to him in a six-hundred-page manual?

According to his family, he didn't even have the smallest commendable features that he still prided himself in now even—he was bloody suicidal, and he could still find less faults in himself than his family did!

It terrified him that his family could possibly hate him _more_ than he hated himself. Percy didn't even think that was possible! As his thoughts spiralled, he realised that he didn't stop for a second to think about _George_.

He really was a selfish git. It was _always_ about him… it _had_ to be about him!

Ron had left him to be by himself after that and Percy stood there for about ten minutes, contemplating what he thought he knew and this new information about how completely egotistical and vindictive he was.

After his body was about to freeze off from standing outside for too long, Percy walked back into the Burrow.

He was feeling so many bad emotions at once that he didn't know what to do with him. At the same time, he was numb, and he didn't care about any of the feelings that he felt. He opened the kitchen drawer, and picked up a knife.

Percy cradled it close to his body… like it was the only thing in the universe that could redeem himself to his family.

Percy climbed back up to his room. He didn't know what to say if anyone caught him holding a gigantic knife in his hands only moments after a serious row with George. He momentarily thought of pretty Audrey, who he hadn't heard from in ages. He almost forgot how she looked like, and he would've if he didn't think about her all the time.

He wondered if she realised that he was a horrifying monster too.

The second he walked into his room, he locked his door with a key and a spell. He slid down on the ground, back against the door, and rolled his sleeves up. He gently allowed the knife to graze his skin—

A sound outside of George smashing something and yelling _"PERCY! I HATE THAT RUDDY COWARD!"_ had shocked him so much that Percy accidentally dug the knife deep into his arm.

He jolted, staring down at the trail of blood that he left on his baggy blue trousers.

 _"GEORGE, BACK… INSIDE… THE HOUSE… NOW!"_ Percy could hear Molly yell, and George kept on crying back, sobbing and mentioning how Percy did this to him in that sad, shrill broken voice.

Percy twisted the knife into the cut, and then sliced his down from his forearm to his wrist.

His satisfaction was only partial and short-lived, even though he was bleeding so much. Probably because he could still hear George scream so loudly that he bet that the whole of Devon could hear him. Percy didn't do this regularly, but the emotions of the day left him feeling still felt partially numb and anxious and partially relieved.

 _"HE EVEN TRICKED FRED! HE MADE FRED GIVE HIM EVERYTHING!"_ if George yelled anymore, he'd probably go mute. Percy couldn't imagine how George's throat must've felt right then.

Percy put the knife away, but only after he cleaned it. Looking at his battered arm didn't help him feel any better.

His head was still pounding with George's words, weighing him down heavily. Percy was so stunned he couldn't even find it in him to cry. He didn't know _why_ he had cut himself, because it wasn't like those times where the urges to do something like that were burning into his mind. Just as he laid back in his bed with his bleeding arm, he felt himself grow faintly lightheaded. Hermes did not look happy with him. He kept on glowering at him from the end bed.

"I'm sorry," Percy said to his owl. He wasn't sure what he was sorry for, but he meant it. "Would you forgive me?"

Hermes swooped in towards him and sat on his lap, huddling to his stomach. Percy let his arm – the one that wasn't currently bleeding rest on his Hermes' back. He kept his back pressed against the wall and—

"I will be with you shortly!" Percy had heard a knock at the door.

He got up from his bed and then took off the shirt that he was wearing. He wrapped it around his bleeding arm like he'd done this a thousand times before. Percy was so unfazed that emotions like _shock, anger_ and _horror_ didn't really percolate through his mind. He moved to weed through his clothing and then pulled an extremely oversized light grey hoodie on his frame—one that belonged, he thought with a broken smile, _to George_. He changed his pants as well, throwing his baggy bloody blue trousers in the pile of unclean clothes he had at the bottom of his dresser.

He opened the door and saw that it was a red-eyed, wild-haired Molly standing there. She stared at him vacantly.

"I don't want to accuse you of anything, Percival but…" Molly looked like she was trying her best to not be biased. She kept her voice steady, even though her lip twitched every few words. _"What did you do to George?"_

Percy opened his mouth to answer that, but what could he say to that?

Molly looked away from him, like she couldn't stand the sight of him. She hadn't tended to her curly, frizzy carroty hair today. She was wearing a pair of scarlet robes that clashed heavily with her hair.

"Percy," her voice was stern now, "I know that this is ill-timed, but I need to ask you something…"

Percy slowly nodded his head. He had about as much emotion in his face as a stone.

"…I was mulling over your financial situation in my head a thousand times and it just doesn't make any sense!" Molly's voice was calm, but it was wobbling with emotion. "You were working for the junior assistant to the Minister for years, and Arthur heard from Perkins that you were paid really well for it! Your father didn't think you'd spent much of that money at all—not on your old flat anyway from what he'd seen of it!"

Percy agreed to this. The most expensive thing in his flat was, oddly enough, that fruit bowl that he bought half-off from a one-eyed gypsy. He put all his muggle Terry's milk chocolate oranges there.

"And then when… _Fred died_ ," the way that Molly said that made him feel like he was relieving Fred's death in his mind, "He left you all his belongings— _including_ all the money that he made from his successful business."

Percy nodded his head. And he also left him a little trinket: a pair of old black shoes.

"Then I realised it didn't make any sense why you took up a flat in Knockturn Alley. It sounds to me that you should've enough money for a _really_ wonderful flat!" Molly concluded.

Percy knew exactly what happened to his junior-assistant-to-the-Minister money. It disapparated from his fingers the second he tried to fix the Burrow! How did Molly think that Percy paid for that seriously expensive wallpaper? He wasn't about to wrap a house filled with years of memories in a half-off wallpaper that smelled faintly of rat droppings!

And how did she think he disinfected the Burrow? With the power of his 12 O.W.L's?

Also, was she really telling him to use Fred's money? The money that he knew would _never_ be rightfully his, even if Fred had said otherwise? Not a chance! Percy was going to use that to help open the George's business… which might be difficult now that George loathed him and thought he might as well have been the new You-Know-Who!

Molly shook her head, strands of distressed hair falling in front of her face. "Then _I_ sent you money—enough money to land you a few months in a very good flat! And you… _you took it!"_

Percy raised an eyebrow when she said this. He most certainly did not take her money—

 _Oh!_ Percy could practically see his father take that money to pay for the Burrow, given the fact that he spent his night getting plastered in a pub instead of working late hours in his new job!

"And yet…" Molly's confusion shifted to pure outrage. "Ron tells me you've been living in a _ROOM_ in a _GAY PUB?_ "

Percy flinched, but then slowly nodded his head.

Molly opened her mouth to ask him more questions, and Percy supposed that _why_ and _what did you do to that money_ was not far behind. Percy kept his lips pursed tightly.

Her shoulders deflated instead. "Dinner is ready," she said. "I'll get Charlie to send some for you after."

 _You are not invited to sit with us at the dinner table_ was what Percy had gathered. It mightn't be for any other reason that the fact that George was most likely to throw his _x_ th number of temper tantrum that day, followed by a disastrous screaming and crying spell that would make poor ghostly Fred himself speechless, but it still made Percy feel rotten.

"Of course," Percy's bleeding arm started to ache— _badly_. "Thank you."

After Molly left, he locked his bedroom door. He looked back at Hermes, who was waiting for him patiently by the window. The only friendly face that never changed his opinions on him… and Percy didn't deserve him. He sat on the edge of the bed and took off his hoodie. He slowly started to unroll the shirt around his cut.

He spent the rest of the night tending to it. At around three in the morning, the clothes he bled in were clean.

Percy's cut was tended to and bandaged expertly—mostly by Hermes, his therapeutic owl, but expertly nonetheless. He had put on his hoodie again and laid on his bed, pulling the covers over his aching, shattered body.

For the millionth time that day, he thought of Audrey. He was very much sure that he was in love with her.

He was also sure that suicidal blokes shouldn't be falling in love with women. It wasn't like he could do much with her. Percy could only really think about her, and envision her bright face. She was getting on well without him. Audrey had probably all but forgotten he and his little magical world it existed it seemed. He wondered who was her almost-flatmate now. Percy hoped that they knew just how special Audrey was…

Percy sent letters to her all the time, but she'd not replied to any of them. That was for the best, really.

With a small smile on his face, Percy could envision Hermes irritating Audrey into writing something and Audrey telling him to muck off. In the background, her musical blender whirred around to make biscuit juice.

Percy decided that his limbs felt too heavy for him to go downstairs. He knew that he should probably eat something. Apparently, according to his mum, Charlie was supposed to get him something. He turned to stare at the window, and saw that Hermes had gotten him another drier-than-Lee-Jordan's-humour flapjack from downstairs. Percy grimaced, deciding that it wasn't worth it. But Hermes kept on thrusting the flapjack onto his face.

Percy sat up and took the package from Hermes. "This is the last time I'll consent to this."

He sat with his legs crossed, staring into the great white moonlight as he ate his dry, disgusting flapjack. It would be February soon. And then there will be only four months until this nightmare of a life ended.


	16. Chapter 16

_again, i cannot do the comments reply thing, but i thought that you would prefer a chapter that is posted a few days early... enjoy!_

* * *

 **Love and Old Black Shoes**

Chapter Sixteen

* * *

The last memory that Percy had of the world moving was on a late January day when George's world crumbled down and Ron had called him a monster. After that, the world hadn't moved since—neither in February, nor in March.

It was mid- _APRIL_ now and the world glowed bleaker than Percy's faulty, cloudy Remembrall in first year.

Percy had spent the past few months trying to collect enough sickles to buy Harry and Ginny a good present for their wedding… he did this by modelling _new crup-collar robes_ for a second-hand robe shop!

Hermes put on weight because of Percy's new job… it was all those insects he found in those _authentic_ collars!

Unfortunately, his delicate, freckled skin broke out in eczema every time he put the blasted thing on! By the end of the night, he'd become redder than a Chinese Fireball from all the scratching! _A Chinese Fireball with dragon pox that was!_

Nonetheless, after two months of toiling away and losing whatever shard of dignity he had left, Percy had finally managed to buy them a present that didn't look like it was second-hand, acquired by illegal methods or once worn in an exclusive interview with Rita Skeeter. As the date inched closer, Percy tried to find out how his new dress robes were supposed to make him look invigorated and full of vitality when his skin was ashen and pasty to the point of greyness, and his cornflower blue eyes looked glossy and fake, not unlike Ginny's old creepy Christmas dolls. Nowadays, he had as much life in him as the Weird Sisters had in their new hit album, _Dead, Deader and Deadest_.

Percy sat down at the edge of his bed, clutching his new dress robes. They, like Ginny and Harry's present, cost a fortune and a half, but perhaps, their well-designed cut will help conceal the permanent frown Percy had on his face.

Just as he was trying to think of what tattered, old plimsolls he could wear with his dress robes, Harry invited himself into Percy's room. He looked uncomfortable. Percy supposed this was probably because even though had known Harry for approximately eight years, the conversations they had together couldn't fill up a singular page in a book.

"Are those what you're going to wear to the wedding?" Harry gestured to the dress robes.

"Yes! Yes," Percy said, offering a weak smile. "Decently priced dress robes are harder to come by than dragon claws!"

Harry cleared his throat. "I've never tried to buy dragon claws."

"Neither have I but they are notoriously known for being hard to find. However, I might be able to acquire a few if I was a Hufflepufff," he then placed his dress robes aside. "To what do I owe this pleasure, Harry?"

"I don't know how to tell you this…" Harry rubbed his arm. This was not a good start for a conversation.

"Is Ginny alright?" Percy suddenly asked, his face riddled with concern.

She was probably the only person in his family that didn't resent him.

Harry nodded his head. "She's fine. I just…" he shuffled from side to side, his cheeks redder than Percy's chest after modelling the old Kneazle robes. "I couldn't help but notice the tension in the family. With you I mean."

"Yes," Percy didn't know where Harry was going with this, but his stomach already hurt.

"So…" Harry looked nervous. "I was thinking that it'll be better if you don't come." He paused. "To the wedding."

"Oh," Percy didn't know what he felt— _pain_ at first, but then this sort of thing happened to him all the time. "Oh."

Percy really was supposed to be used to it by now! Spend two months getting money for a present and a pair of robes, but get shot down at the last few days of preparation. Spend years studying arse off for a future in the Ministry, get 12 O.W.L's and still end up modelling second-hand robes!

"Al… alright, Harry," replied Percy in a very soft, wounded voice. "I understand."

"And please, don't mention this to Ginny," Harry said. He was already becoming a Weasley—his ears were becoming pink. "If she knew that I asked you not to come to her wedding, she'd shove her Firebolt up my arse."

"Yes, yes, I… I understand." Percy slowly nodded his head. "But Harry… wouldn't she be upset if I didn't come?"

"Yes but…" Harry nodded his head. "I'll take her mind off it." Percy could practically hear people telling Ginny that he was just a git, and that it was only a matter of time before she realised it too. His heart sunk further in his chest.

"Alright. Alright," Percy looked down at his feet. "Take good care of her," he ordered him.

"Of course," Harry placed a hand on Percy's shoulder and he momentarily thought that he was going to spill his deepest, darkest secrets to the saviour of the wizarding world. "I've got to go now."

"Of course," Percy nodded his head curtly, feeling his shoulders slump. "I…"

Harry had already left the room by then.

Percy clung tightly on his new dress robes. He supposed he'd just tell his family to please bury him in it because it wasn't like he could return the sodding things now! If Harry told him about a week ago that he didn't want him to be at the wedding, then at least Percy could've returned the bloody thing.

His bright blue eyes started to sting with tears. He'd already missed Bill's stupid wedding! And he _wanted_ to see Ginny get married before he died! _This wasn't fair!_ He couldn't miss _all_ their weddings. But Percy knew that the minute he walked into that hall, there was going to at least be two family rows prompted by him.

He also knew that if he didn't come, Ginny would be upset—and then she'd resent him just like everyone else resented him. She'd see him as this _thing_ that didn't deserve anymore attention. Percy knew that that was what he'd wanted all along, for people to hate him to the point where they didn't even have to mourn him if he died but…

Percy didn't expect it to _hurt_ this much! He felt a little piece of him tear away every time someone rejected him!

Right now, Arthur pretended he didn't exist— _literally_. Once, they'd all gone for a coffee and he'd gotten one for everyone except for Percy. Pity because it was one of his favourite coffee places as well.

When he walked into the kitchen where they dined, _his chair_ wasn't there anymore!

Fred's chair was still there! Fred was dead, but he still had a place at the table! Percy had also noticed that his handle had mysteriously disapparated. But Fred's was still pointed somewhere between _Lost_ and _Home!_

Molly asked him questions that he couldn't answer like, _are you planning on working in that second-hand robe shop for the rest of your life?_ and then told him she left a few bread rolls for him in the oven for when he wanted something to eat! When the rest of the family was having a gigantic Sunday roast, he was offered the leftovers! And none of the glorious half-off duck, or his mum's perfect roast potatoes. No, he could eat all the sodding _BREAD ROLLS_ he desired!

Percy was sure he was taking the vacant position of the family pet since they found out Scabbers was a Death Eater.

Except Scabbers had people petting and tending to him all the time… Percy made sure of it at the very least.

And to confirm his status, every day, Percy had to try and get fleas and bugs out of his curly red cavern of mysteries with his bottle of Madam Primpernelle's _Fast-Acting Anti-Flea Remover for Crups and Kneazles!_

Ginny was the only one that found this ridiculous. She defended him repeatedly. She tried to take him out to Diagon Alley a few times a month for a little chat and coffee. She told him about how excited she was for her wedding.

Ginny's anticipation was the only reason he got the sodding job in a second-hand robe store in the first place!

Percy certainly did not like to work somewhere where a small rat could sneak into the strawberry-scented underpants he had to model—along with the strawberry-scented reduced-price faux dragon skin robes! Percy was sick to death of strawberries. Whenever he went, they attacked him with their… _strawberry-ness_.

His room still smelled vaguely of strawberries, even though Percy had chucked out the candles long ago. 

So, on the biggest day of his sister's life, Percy decided to spend the whole day in bed.

Fortunately for him, he felt a little better about missing the wedding because he managed to spike a fever.

Percy supposed that wearing second-hand robes that were made from crups, Kneazles and Puffskeins might have something to do with it. Percy had also once accidentally swallowed part of a Puffskein when he yawned into his sleeve and a part of it came right off. These factors, also with the fact that pregnant Fleur seemed to catch a cold every three days and then cough directly into Percy's face, aided him in having the first stomach bug he'd had since he was three years old _. Of course_ , it was a stomach bug! Of course, he, who had about as much body fat as a cube of ice, had gotten a sickness that made him vomit whatever he consumed. Even the universe didn't want him to live anymore!

As he stumbled into bed after vomiting what smelled vaguely like strawberries (that didn't help with his nausea), he collapsed onto his bed and pretended that he didn't hear Hermes whine into his ears.

He then looked at the time. If he showered and got ready _now_ , he wouldn't miss the ceremony.

Before he could contemplate it, Percy rose from his bed. He decided that he'd rather his family have a few rows and Harry hating him for the rest of his life, then to disappoint Ginny by not showing up.

Percy took a shower, wore his new dress robes, and then quickly apparated to the front of where Harry and Ginny were holding their wedding ceremony. Well, he apparated, and nearly vomited whilst doing so.

Just as he edged closer to the hall, his limbs felt heavier and he felt a warm feeling travel up his spine.

Percy noticed that his clammy, freckled hands were shaking. His head was pounding so hard it felt like a troll was slamming his head repeatedly into a wall. His heart was racing. He felt like he was about to either collapse or throw up—and he certainly hoped he wouldn't be be throwing up. He'd done enough of that in the last twenty-four hours.

Unfortunately, he knew that an upset stomach combined with his disastrous eating meant a recipe for fainting spells.

He had been getting so busy trying not to be late he'd forgotten about his Fainting Fancy-like tendencies.

Percy normally warded them off by having something dense and carbohydrate-based packed in his robes—and if Hermes had it his way, it would be a bloody almond butter and dark chocolate flapjack. At this point, Percy couldn't sleep without dreaming about them. And they were starting to eerily taste like Hagrid's rock cakes.

He ignored the feeling and then walked straight into the hall where they were holding the ceremony.

Percy felt somehow underdressed for the occasion, even if he was wearing the smartest pair of dress robes that he'd ever worn in his life. Everyone he had a glimpse at looked like they could be nominated for _Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award_. There were women with skin that shimmered brighter than moonstone powder and blokes with eyes that could make a euphoria-inducing elixir blush. Meanwhile, Percy had just showered approximately twenty minutes ago—the first one he'd had in _days_ mind you, and his hair was fluffed up to full Pygmy Puff potential. His smart dress robes looked stupid, and he felt even more ridiculous knowing the fact that he was wearing the same plimsolls that he had since he was about fifteen years old… and they certainly weren't new then!

Percy tried to look around for a face that he recognised. He had been so worried about a family row, when in fact, he couldn't really find his family. He paced around the hall, with the sinking feeling that he had gone to someone else's ceremony. That was before he noticed Ron standing to the side of the hall, chattering incessantly to Hermione.

Today marked the first day in his life where Ron looked like he was smarter than his O.W.L results!

Even though Percy lit up seeing his family, he knew his best bet was to stay far away from them.

So, Percy sat at the end of the hall, trying to pretend that he didn't exist. Unfortunately, for a six-foot-two bloke with bright red curls and wearing a pair of white-and-black robes that now looked like something out of Trelawny's Tessomancy class, this was not very easy. Percy sunk as low as he could in his seat. Even sat down, he was lightheaded! He could see a thousand flying snitches form in front of his eyes, but he ignored them.

He had been waiting for the ceremony to start, and shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

Oh, did he mention the sheer quantity of women that wore fur robes to this ceremony? Percy knew that they were not his second-hand rubbish that he sold for a quick few sickles, but it still felt like a nightmare. Some of the robes he'd had to model—he was sure that _other_ parts of the poor animal had been used to! Horrific!

His heart nearly jumped out of his chest when he saw Bill walk up to him.

Bill was dressed to the nines. He looked like he was doing those dress robes a favour by putting them on!

Percy suddenly felt like he was a nine-year-old child standing next to his venerable fourteen-year-old brother. Instead of them talking inside the hall like anyone else would, Bill gestured for Percy to follow him outside and offered a nod of his head in the direction of the exit. _Oh_. Percy didn't have to be Dumbledore to know where this would lead to.

Percy slowly stood up and followed Bill outside.

Percy swallowed the lump in his throat the minute that they were out of everyone else's sight and alone. Bill wasn't saying anything yet so, Percy thought that he should. "It is a very exclusive-looking wedding that Ginny has lined—"

"Stop," Bill ordered, and Percy didn't say anything after that. He just looked down at his feet. " _Why_ are you here?"

Percy's head hurt. He was tired. His nose was stuffy. He felt like he was dying. And the reason why he supposed he had never been able to get into Ravenclaw was because he had no patience for riddles whatsoever.

 _Because it's my sister's wedding_ seemed like an awful thing to say when you also missed your eldest brother's wedding.

"Harry didn't want to tell you about how we think that you shouldn't be here because… well, because of a lot of reasons," Bill admitted, and Percy felt like it was another stab to his heart.

Percy's throat felt dry. _"We…?"_ he reiterated. His glossy eyes were filled with hurt. "Oh."

So, it _wasn't_ just Bill and Harry. And quite frankly, Percy didn't want to know who else thought that he shouldn't come to his own sister's wedding. He felt like he wouldn't be able to handle it.

"George is a little better—even looks like he's slept tonight, but the second he sees you, he's going to disconnect your hair from your head." Bill cleared his throat. "And _we're_ still trying to recover from what he… did on his birthday."

George had attempted to harm himself by ingesting a box of faulty Skiving Snackboxes. Yes… _faulty!_ The other end that was supposed to make him feel better—didn't! So, George had to been put in the hospital for about three very long days until the sweets had run their course. It was the one of the most exhausting three days of Percy's life.

In the past month, George sunk deeper into himself without any form of reprieve.

Everyone in the family started to walk on dragon shells around him. George was shutting himself out. He'd probably slept three hours in a _week_. To add onto that, the only way that George could get to sleep was _if he cried himself to sleep._ That usually took _HOURS_. And sleeping draughts didn't help! They just made him more miserable!

"Let me take you back home," Bill offered, breaking Percy out of his thoughts. It sounded like Bill was being nice, so why did Percy feel like he was so _cruel?_ "Because I am not letting you back in there as long as George is there."

Percy opened his mouth to speak, but all he could think about was a crying, sleep-deprived George screeching at him every time he was in the same room as him. Percy had finally bought a cheap, temperamental little kettle for his own room, so he would minimise the risk of him running into George.

"Of course," Percy agreed softly. He couldn't recall a time where he had felt so unwanted as he did right then.

Bill placed a hand on Percy's shoulder, but it wasn't very comforting to him.

"I feel very nauseated. I would prefer if no apparition is involved," Percy said. He was sure that if he tried to apparate again, he would end up vomiting all over the new carpet that Molly bought… George tried to burn the old one.

Bill didn't look pleased to know that they'd have to walk to the Burrow, but the hall was actually not that far away.

The walk back to the Burrow felt long, but it was silent. Bill looked like he wanted to say a few things, but he kept his mouth shut tightly. Percy wanted to say more than a few things, but he didn't say anything either.

The truth was that the closer they inched to Percy's death date, the more apprehensive and panicked he had felt. Percy would go as far as to say that he had stopped feeling elated at the thought of killing himself.

He was suddenly terrified at the plan that he had so intricately created nearly a year ago.

He didn't want to go through it anymore. For the fist time since he'd made his plan, Percy realised that he was petrified of the thought of dying alone. He just wanted to be held and coddled and loved so _badly_.

Most nights, he wrapped his arms around himself in his bed at night, so he would feel less alone.

But staying alive terrified him even more than dying. Percy had tried to make his family dislike him to make his plan to go through with his suicide easier, but it had only made it _harder_. He worked so hard to be part of his own family, but it felt like it only took a few words and accusations for it to disintegrate. The foundation for any relationship he ever seemed to have seemed to crumble away in a few choice words or a particularly messy row. Percy had spent the past few months in a fog. His mind had probably replayed every single event that happened in his life right before his blue eyes and even with the knowledge of 12 O.W.L's, he wasn't sure how in Merlin's name he was supposed to fix any of it. He'd ruined it.

Percy looked at Bill mid-way through their walk. "Am I allowed to see Victoire?"

Bill looked surprised to hear Percy speak, as if he'd forgotten that Percy had the ability to do that. "Oh, I…" he cleared his throat and Percy was sure that the answer was _no_. "We'll talk about it after, alright?"

Bill went the extra mile by not only dropping Percy off at the front of the Burrow, but also taking him to his room.

The minute that Percy sat down, he felt this sadness swallow him whole. He realised that everything that he had gone through his life had cumulated to this pathetic moment where he was sat there in his room, crushed at the idea of killing himself but even more horrified at the idea of surviving another day.

Percy wrapped his arms around himself, and pulled his knees up to his chest.

"We probably won't be back home until very late," Bill said from the doorway. Percy didn't really feel like talking anymore—not that they had done much talking. He was tired, and he was spiking a fever.

Bill cleared his throat. "I… I think you look great. In your dress robes."

"Thank you," Percy didn't know what he was thanking him for. He was seriously overdressed for a night in his bed.

Bill looked like he wanted to say something else, but he didn't. He apparated away instead.

An empty feeling burned into Percy's belly the second that he was alone.

He was so wide awake that he decided to go check on the potion he'd been tending to for months now.

The potion required a lot of settling down and very little actual brewing. Over the course of nearly a _YEAR_ , he'd probably only took it out to brew for about two days. Between the brewing, he had to seal it into a phial and let it change from colour to colour over a period of _weeks_. It started off as a bright red and was shimmering down to a green that was eerily like that of a Common Green Welsh. The potion, however, was not complete until it became crystallised. The product consumed was the crystallised pearls at the bottom. However, this was not a case of Pink Coconut Ice or a packet of crystallised ginger and it was not going to taste like one either.

Percy had read somewhere that this potion had some of the most vile-tasting compounds that one could consume.

Fortunately for him, he'd been eating his mother's Christmas pudding all his life. When he first moved out from the Burrow and got his own flat, Percy had probably done things to a potato that were considered unholy.

The crystallisation process was hindered when the potion was exposed to direct light for long periods of time. So, Percy only took the potion out about twice a month in a dimly lit room. He kept the phial in a cupboard, under a heap of old Christmas jumpers that he didn't fit into anymore—well, one of them might fit over his scrawny frame but he did not want to risk anymore eczema-related breakouts. He could never tell where the rashes started and where his freckles began! This cupboard was away from the window just to ensure that it was not exposed to sunlight.

Opening the cupboard in his room, Percy pulled out the phial for the first time in two months and felt his heart stop. The last he saw the thing, it was about the colour of the… _well_ , the discharge from Penelope's stress-related ear infection. He wouldn't go into the specifics, but it was far from a Common Green Welsh! It was more of… a Norwegian Ridgeback at best! As he thought this, Percy realised that he was comparing his girlfriend's bodily fluids to _hazardous fire-breathing beasts_. It was then that he realised that he was probably becoming delirious from his fever.

From what Percy could see in the dim lighting, the lengthy crystallisation process was _nearly finished!_

He was so confounded. That was supposed to take another month… _AT LEAST!_

A sense of both morbid elation and terror filled his tall, freckled body. In a few _days_ , he would finally end his life. And he had miscalculated one of the most important dates in his life! It was not in July after all… just a few more _DAYS!_

Percy crossed his legs and placed the phial back underneath the heap of soft Christmas jumpers.

He thought of all the paperwork that he had to finalise. He had already finalised his will ages ago—when the war had ended, and death was a scent lingering in the air long after the war passed. He found it to be the least suspicious time for a twenty-three-year-old to write up his own will when he'd just witnessed his brother dying in front of his very eyes!

In the past few weeks, Percy spent his time filling up the paperwork to have Weasley's Wizard Wheezes re-opened.

Percy just had to go to the Ministry and submit the paperwork soon because it took a few days for them to reply, and he wanted to be sure that they were rebuilding the Merlin forsaken shop before he succumbed to his own death.

Before he got bad again, George had been trying to sell new products to make enough to open the shop up again.

Percy tried to think of more things he had to finalise before his impending suicide, but his mind was blank, and his heart sunk so low because all he could think about was the fact that his family didn't want him there at Ginny's wedding and Bill wasn't sure if he wanted Percy to hold his first baby niece! On one of the most important days of his sister's life, he was supposed to stay in his room in this quiet, empty house and be sick all over the floor. _ALONE_.

Tears ran down his cheeks. Percy didn't know how he could be so depressed and ready to die and yet be so terrified at the prospect of death. He wondered if his family would believe him if he told them that he wanted to die.

 _But I don't want to die. I just want to be loved_ , Percy's confidence felt shattered. His self-esteem had disintegrated.

Thoughts racing in his mind; Percy decided that he will spend some time with everyone in his family before he died.

He was going to help his mum in the kitchen tomorrow for breakfast. Molly had always been complaining about how she had to cook everything by herself. He was going to sit with his father in the shed after breakfast and listen to him chatter about muggle toys that Percy had no interest in. He wondered if he could meet up with Charlie and Bill in a coffee shop in London tomorrow afternoon, the one that Audrey had first taken him to. They would probably like it there. The scenery alone was right up their alley. After that, he could see Audrey for the very last time in his life. Percy thought he could play Exploding Snap with Ginny and Ron—though he was not very good at it, _they_ really liked it. He would talk to George afterwards, try to make him feel a little better even if it meant putting himself down a pedestal or ten. He could even see Penelope and Nolene for the last time tomorrow! It would all only take a day…

As he came to these decisions, Percy felt calmer than he had in ages. He felt like he was miraculously cured from his illness, even though he was unsure if this was just be his delusional feverish thinking talking!

He found the paperwork that he had for George's shop and apparated to the Ministry for Magic. Yes. Apparated. Despite the nausea involved.

It felt only fitting that he would walk into the Ministry on the last few days of his life. Percy stared at the building with wide blue eyes—all the admiration he had for it had withered away into something more dark and malicious.

This was something he had been willing to _die_ for. And he didn't know what it meant to him anymore.

Percy remembered the first time he had walked inside these magnificent walls here as a child, with his father proudly pointing towards his office. Happy, bouncy eight-year-old Percy squealing with delight. He had never been as happy as he had been on that day, and he had been trying to replicate that happiness every day with no success. He got a job at the Ministry. He had a shiny desk just like his father. But he certainly was not happy, and the only bounciness he exhibited was after a ten-pm curry. He spent his time the Ministry marvelled by the architecture and astonished at the fact that he was writing Ministry reports for the Minister for Magic, but he knew that he was still empty, unloved and alone on the inside! Percy remembered how excited he was when he came back home to announce his promotion, and how they had chewed him out like a silly little schoolboy that didn't understand what it implied. That he had been _wrong_. That it was all a _ruse_. That his 12 O.W.L's, the fact that he had practically ran an entire department on his own for months and his dedication to his superiors meant nothing. And everything he stood for? _Nothing_.

Percy's lip wobbled as he walked inside the Ministry. How pitiful it was! That this _building_ felt like more of a home than the house that he'd been growing up in for most of his life…

He remembered how it was like to be a five-year-old child again trying to make sense of what a distressed Fabian had shown him on that day that he'd took him to see that room with decaying bodies and the scent of raw, human flesh rotting—forever engrained in his skull. Percy most certainly did not find his solace in his family, who glanced at him every now and then to make sure that he didn't tear the hand-me-down robes he had because they were going to be given to Ron. Percy found his consolation and comfort in gigantic boring books and lists of rules so long that he'd need to change his glasses' prescription just to really take them in… because they were _THERE_. They were _ALWAYS THERE._

As Percy reminisced, he got up to the elevator. He knew exactly where he should take his documentation to. He also knew that it would take them months to look at the file if Percy did this in the official manner that he always did.

Just like Percy, _of all people_ , knew that he should be making an appointment with the Minister if he wanted to see him.

However, he was going to be dead in a few days, so he had no time to wait three months for him to be given an appointment with a senior staff member that was likely to sign the leaflet for him without looking at it .As long as he could pay, of course. So, Percy decided to throw caution to the wind and with the knowledge garnered by 12 O.W.L's, he carelessly stormed inside the Minister's office as if he was walking into his own bedroom, and…

Well, this was how he had ended up man-handled by an Auror that was meeting with the Minister at the time.

 _Does it work this way only for Harry Potter? Or am I just that much of a fool?_ Percy wondered.

Percy watched Kingsley Shacklebolt— _the Minister for Magic for Merlin's sake! Not the Auror that your father sometimes has biscuits and tea with in his spare bloody time!_ Percy repeatedly told himself—take in his appearance. Then Kingsley gestured for the Auror to let go of Percy. _Good!_ Percy could probably press charges against that troll-sized Neanderthal for disconnecting his arm from his shoulder joint in about less than three seconds.

After a generic threat that didn't quite register in Percy's mind, the troll-man left.

" _PERCY!_ Good to see you!" Kingsley looked almost _happy_ to see him. That was peculiar, seeing as he sent an owl that prevented him from getting a proper job for the past few months.

Kingsley frowned. "You're gotten very thin! Is there a new diet that all the blokes are doing these days? Last week, I saw the bloke now running the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures! Looked like a deflated Puffskein! But you… _Merlin, Percival_. I've seen air with more substance than you! I've got a few scones here that you should eat from! _Please!_ Help yourself to them!"

Was the Minister of Magic concerned for his health and well-being? Percy was confused. He supposed that he wouldn't be concerned for the health and well-being of a bloke he'd fucked in the arse without any preparation!

Kingsley gestured for Percy to sit down on the chair and Percy cautiously obeyed.

Instead of Kingsley offering him _a_ scone, he'd given him the whole plate! And they were _heaping_ with margarine!

"Thank you, Mr Minister," Percy said softly. He stared at the scones. He hadn't enjoyed those things the last bloody time!

"What brings you here, Percy?" Kingsley asked. "And please, it's Kingsley to you."

Percy found it so strange that the Minister of Magic was so friendly to him today. A while back, Kingsley seemed like he'd have enough of Percy! He'd even sent him a letter—the same letter that one typically sent off to _Azkaban prisoners_ after they got released—and since then, all the jobs that he had had been wearing him down. But now, he was offering him scones and seemed happy that Percy just interrupted his meeting with Hagrid's violent twin brother.

It was almost like he was looking forward to talking to him?

"Pardon me, Mr Minister," Percy put the stone in his hand down. His hand was slicked with grease. "I don't understand how you could send a letter that prevents me from having a job that pays more than thirty sickles a month, and then be so kind to me when I walk into your office?"

"What letter?" Kingsley frowned. Percy was sure his heart skipped a few beats. "What are you talking about?"

Percy placed the plate down and wiped his hand off. He carried the letter with him wherever he went. Percy had to give it to the place of employment during the interviewing process. It was unlawful and severely punishable if Percy did not present his letter to any job application he put forth. Yes, he would've ended up in court for that!

He offered the letter to Kingsley and when the Minister for Magic looked at it, his face paled.

"I've had three jobs since the war—one at a tattoo parlour, one at a gay pub and one selling second-hand robes," Percy mentioned in a low voice, as he nibbled on a scone just so he would have something to busy his hands with.

" _I_ didn't authorise this, Percival," Kingsley said seriously. "Were you, by any chance, under the impression that I sent this letter to you, after our disagreement last time?"

Percy could only nod his head in agreement. It had an _official seal!_ Percy had seen it a thousand times!

"That's highly untrue. In fact, the opposite is true! I sent several owls to the Burrow since that day that we disagreed—it was the last time that I saw you!" Kingsley admitted. "When your father joined the rehabilitation programme soon after our disagreement, I realised what kind of tension you must've been facing at home. Especially with Fred's untimely death. I even wrote an apology to you when Arthur came back to work, and he kept on slacking off in his department! Mind you, he's a mate and I know he's been having a hard time but his work is not up to par…"

Kingsley shook his head in disbelief. "I've even sent a new owl to the Burrow recently asking if you'd wanted to be the head for the Department of Magical Transportation because I've been finding it hard to get good work these days," Percy thought he was dreaming then. "I found it unusual when you've not answered back!"

Percy blinked several times, and then he felt like his head hurt. His mind immediately went to the conclusion that he didn't want it to—that someone from his family _purposefully_ sabotaged him. "I… I didn't get any owls, sir."

Kingsley nodded his head. "Is that what you came to see me about? Your job situation?"

"No, I…" Percy shook his head, and then showed him the paperwork that he'd filled out. "I actually came here because I wanted to re-open Weasley's Wizard Wheezes for George and I wanted it authorised before he's thirty."

Kingsley nodded his head and he didn't even read the document before he signed it off officially.

When Kingsley saw the date, he found it peculiar as well. "Isn't today's Ginny's wedding?" he asked. "Harry asked me if I could be there, but unfortunately, I had some extremely important business to attend to. How was it?"

Percy felt his façade crumbling. "I couldn't attend unfortunately," he mentioned. "Harry and Bill explicitly mentioned that they did not want me to be there as George and I are not in a good point in our relationship right now. And I would've referred preferred if I did not make a scene in my own sister's wedding."

"Of course," Kingsley nodded his head understandably. Percy smiled weakly.

"Well, I hope you give that job I just offered you some serious thought!" Kingsley caught sight of the letter that Percy had mentioned, and Percy's stomach hurt as he remembered what Kingsley said about the letters he'd sent to the Burrow. "And chuck this letter in the bin! I don't want you to hand it in whilst filling another job application ever again! I bet you it's one of those blokes from the older departments that must found you unpalatable during your time with Mr Crouch. Either way, the second I know who it is, I can assure you he'd be sacked!"

Percy slowly nodded his head (they seemed to only communicate in nods now) and gave Kingsley a smile.

After that, they started to talk about how Ginny had planned her engagement, what was wrong with the Department of Magical Transportation, and a few quick points of advice that Percy had given him regarding the broomstick and Floo powder regulations that hadn't been updated in near over a century. Their conversation was very animated as Kingsley didn't let him leave until the whole plate of scones vanished.

The second that Percy had left the building, he didn't feel good. He felt like he was leaving something amazing behind. But nobody would _ever_ understand what it meant to him to have worked for these men!

Every time he felt like his situation with his family couldn't get anymore complicated or harrowing, he had discovered something new! He couldn't believe they been taking the owls that the Minister sent him and _hid them_ from him!

When Percy came home, he began to meticulously scour the whole house in search of these mysterious letters that Kingsley had been talking about. His body ached with a determination he hadn't felt in ages, but with the determination came this feeling of ice-cold betrayal washing over his prominent, jutting bones.

He'd left no cupboard unopened, no cushion flipped, no carpet turned over, no book left unchecked… he looked, and he looked until the letters themselves and the conversation with Kingsley felt like a nightmare that he woke up from.

After about two hours of rooting through objects in the household, he found the letters tucked in Bill's old Astronomy books, where he used to exchange love letters to a girl that smelled like gillyweed… and _other_ forms of weed.

Percy's head was spinning—Bill didn't bloody live in the sodding Burrow! How could he have done this? He couldn't!

By that time, Percy decided that he'd wasted about two hours of his time over _nothing_. He shouldn't even care about the fact that someone in his family tried to screw with any semblance of a future he might have.

In a few days, he'd put the last nail in his coffin! _WHY DID IT MATTER THAT SOMEONE TRIED TO RUIN HIM?_

In that moment, with his chest heaving rapidly, Percy wondered why he couldn't be like everyone else. He closed his eyes, his chest tightening as he hyperventilated with sweat running down his forehead.

He walked over to the kitchen and rolled up his arms to see the masses of cuts that he had on his arms. Percy did it once a few months ago, and now, he'd cut himself _everywhere_. His chest, his arms, his thighs, his hips, his belly—he would've even slashed his face if it wasn't so obvious! As he thought of adding another cut to his mutilated body, Percy felt his hands shake. He dropped to the ground on his knees and sobbed in what he planned to be the last few days of his life.


	17. Chapter 17

_**LoonyLovegood1981** **:** i feel bad! if i knew the reception to Harry was going to be less than nice, i would've kept him off the plot! well, what's done is done! there's always Charlie (see below). probably the only other character that was consistently on Percy's side... save for the tiff where they weren't doing well with the potions abuse plotline. i always imagined he was a jerk to him when they were young, but after school, he ceased being an arse and became really nice and compassion when he's out of the peer pressure zone. that's just my mini head-canon for him! (it's an awful one.)_

 _ **irene2005:** "but also my twisted mind wants him to succeed." trust me. i think everyone wants him to succeed on /some/ level! _

_**finkles89** **:** i am very good at finding ways to take a bad situation and making it ten times worse. well, i theorised Harry had to have been really pressured by Bill, because he's the one i believe that is heavily implicated in not wanting Percy to be there in Ginny's wedding (it's sort of explained later but he has issues about Percy not being at his wedding basically.) "For his last messages to the family is he going to write a letter or give them each a vial of memories to use in a pensieve?" oh, this chapter answers that most definitely! and a little bit of the next chapter! oh, poor Harry. i feel so bad for him. i hate putting him up in the spotlight. i suck at writing him but i think he didn't want to do it (come on, he was very awkward i'll give him that at least.)_

 _ **LizzieUY** : i am too! but simultaneously happy. i love angst! _

_**HPfan1221** : thank you! _

_**Phoenixx Rising** : poor Harry. i really didn't mean to paint him in a bad light. i take the sweetest characters and turn them into jerks. i should be really ashamed of myself! but you totally find out why Audrey hadn't sent back a letter in this one! _

_**malfoyravenclaw555** **:** thank you :) _

_**imagine forevermore** : though how he got the letter is not explained... much. but who was involved in the arrangements is sort of lightly highlighted. it's kind of hard to explain it now because i'm so far into the suicide plotline. but basically i left it very open for imagination. i have my own mini theory but it's incredibly stupid so i just set it aside. _

_**pupjasmine**_ _: i know how you feel :(_

 _i feel so bad for Harry. i didn't meant to evoke all this Harry hate. i obviously like Harry... but i think he's so easy to just add to the plot as a manipulating factor! also,_ _this chapter ends off with a **cliffhanger** (be prepared!) just letting you know. _

* * *

**Love and Old Black Shoes**

Chapter Seventeen

* * *

 _I'm sorry that I_

 _No, you are not sorry, you git. Otherwise you wouldn't have tried to snuff it in!_ Percy told himself, as he crossed that out. Three days after Ginny's wedding, and a day before he killed himself… and this was what he was what twenty-three years of experience had been reduced too— _'I'm sorry that I'…_ how compelling! Spine-chilling!

This writing a suicide note business was _going to kill him!_ No pun intended, of course.

 _When Fred died, I_

Yes, Percy was sure that when George read that statement, he'd lose all forms of mental sanity. The family would have to send to St Mungo's Mental Health Institute. He crossed that out… _multiple_ times.

Percy massaged his temples. His giant brain in his giant head stopped work. What should he mention in his note?

The dark bags he now had under his eyes from lack of sleep was because he was terrified of dying? He wished that he could have someone standing there and calming him down as he succumbed to a most perilous method of death because one of his worst fears was dying miserable and alone, like melancholic Molly told him to ages ago? He wanted to know who won the next Quidditch World Cup, but had little interest in anything else in his life?

The quill in his hand was damp from his own sweat. He stared down at his template.

 _I_

Why the hell did his suicide note have to be about himself? Percy crossed that out. He was crying from frustration!

Oh, and now, he had teardrops on his suicide note! How overly dramatic and unnecessary! What next? _Bloodstains?_

Seriously, 12 N.E.W.T's and he still didn't have the words to describe how he felt inside.

Percy then stabbed the paper a few times with his quill, and then lit it on fire with his wand. So, his self-taught suicide note writing class was going well… also, it was only hours before his death and he was turning into a pyromaniac.

He placed his head into his arms, and then just sobbed.

 _How many times had he cried in this room?_ How many times did he feel _loved_ in this room? In the last few days, Percy had been having the worst panic attacks in his whole life. _MASSIVE,_ _CRIPPLING_ panic attacks! Wonderful. Because he was literally that paralysed at the thought of dying, but he couldn't live like this anymore.

He picked up his envelope and wrote his last words out on the front before placed it into a boring book he owned. His last words were emotionless, cold, and had no sense of personality… just like himself!

 _Unsealed in this envelope is the funeral listings for the next few months (updated as of the 18th of April; a day before my death), a list of cheap coffins, tombstones and a grave site, the money to pay for these expenses, and my will, signed and officially stamped by the Ministry. I did not write a suicide note. I most definitely do not need a funeral service and would not mind it if I were to be buried in the front yard. I just do not think the gnomes will like it very much. I do not need flowers either. I am allergic to at least half a dozen of them anyway. Do not let Hermes see me often. He is too emotionally attached and will not be able to cope. Thank you._

Percy Weasley didn't need a suicide note. He was no poet, and he was certainly not going to be one overnight.

It was six in the morning, and it was beautiful outside. Only the universe would taunt him like this. Give him a beautiful day with the best weather this whole year and he was going to taint it by killing himself! How marvellous.

What about the three rainstorms they had last week when Percy was drinking coffee outside a café?

He decided to wear black today. Black button-down, black trousers and old, black shoes.

Of course, Percy was no Celestina Warbeck, but he was aware that black should be the last colour that a bloke that was literally emaciated should wear—much less a _form-fitted black_ that he stitched up himself with a few spells he learned years ago. Looking in the mirror, Percy concluded that he looked like Comet's faulty line of dark brooms for dark, handsome grooms. Yes, _and_ they were a bride's gloom, because those brooms resulted in about the unwarranted near-death of every bloke that had the misfortune of riding one… seemed rather fitting now that he thought about it!

He also concluded that self-inflicted starvation made his cheeks fade away. Oh, his hair was still unruly even after twenty-three years of trying to tame it, and he still didn't know how to smile! This was his worthless life.

He had done so many last-minute changes with his potion that it was ridiculous! Initially, he planned to drop the crystals in water, but how could his six-foot-two self be sat in the _FAMILY_ bath tub to die a death that would take him _AT LEAST TWO WEEKS_ without people noticing? It was practically occupied every hour! So, Percy changed his acidic potion into a consumable form by putting the crystals in another potion to alkalinise it!

Also, his paralysis potion got spoiled last minute because… well, Hermes had smashed it to the other side of the room.

Because of the paralysis potion misfortune, Percy had to also create an accelerant potion for his potion in _addition to_ making it consumable. So now, he had a consumable, non-acidic potion that was, indeed fortunately enough, going to separate his skin from his bone in a frightening and grotesque manner but it would have to happen _QUICKER_ than he anticipated thanks to his family and owl meddling, because had no paralysis potion to make sure he didn't change his mind in the middle! He had to alter his potion, from one that would affect him instantly but would kill him slowly in a two-week period, to one that would start affecting him in about fifteen hours, but he would kill him very brutally and very quickly in less than an hour! Percy was so broken. His bloody suicide schematic that he'd spent months working on was _RUINED_. Now, it was just a lesser version of the plan that he had originally… what a million Galleon joke!

The only saving grace was that his hard work wouldn't be completely useless! After this, he would still end up as a discordant pile of connective tissue and disintegrated, porous bone in a pool of blood and sinew like he'd envisioned!

"What are you drinking?" Arthur said by the doorway, and Percy nearly choked on his potion. "Merlin, forget about that! What in Merlin's name are you _wearing?_ And how old is this?"

Percy looked down. "Old? I bought this three days ago!"

He supposed that the black might be fading a little, and it was from a second-hand shop, but it was practically new otherwise. Percy looked at his watch, and then passed Arthur, methodically making his way downstairs.

Oh, by the way, he would be dead before midnight. So, his letter about dying a 'day' before his death was not technically correct. He would die about a few hours before midnight, so it was _not_ technically a day before his death.

Six-thirty. His mum already had the eggs boiled, and was now preparing the biggest pot of porridge known to mankind. Percy couldn't remember the last time he had porridge that wasn't made with light soya milk and Madam Primpernelle's natural and only minimally artificial calorie-free sweeteners. His mother… did not even know what these products were. Her porridge was made with hot full-fat milk and enough sugar to make a Puffskein explode.

Percy couldn't help but indulge in the cardinal sin of tasting his mum's beautiful porridge as it was being cooked.

He hadn't tasted his mum's food mid-cooking in ages! He believed the last time he did, he was thirteen. Then he started to think that only greedy people did that, and he certainly didn't want to look like he was greedy. His mum even used to ask him if there was enough sugar in her rice puddings, or enough salt in her stews after his taste test!

Molly then turned around to face him and almost dropped a bowl that she was holding. This time, Percy was prepared to catch it the second it fell out of her hands because this was not the first time this had happened around him. He was sick of people breaking plates because they were still not used to how gaunt he still was…

Rest in peace that heaping plate of Sunday roast Charlie brought up a few months ago! Percy was sure there was still some gravy still smeared in the carpet right next to his room to remind him of such a wonderful evening.

Molly opened her mouth to speak. She was probably not going to ask him about the sugar content of her porridge.

"Do you want any form of assistance?" Percy asked. He forgot to add that he promised that he would not make any soy yoghurt and fruit bowls, or egg whites cooked in coconut oil. "I could possibly—"

"I'll fix you a plate, and you can go eat upstairs," said Molly rather hurriedly. "No, I don't need your help."

Percy tried to ignore the hostility in her voice. "I would actually prefer to sit down here and eat with—"

"Absolutely not," Molly didn't even consider it. "Go upstairs… _NOW!"_

Percy felt his soul become crushed. And on the verge of having another panic attack because his _perfect plan_ was already being ruined by his family. This was so unfair. This was supposed to be _his last happy day_ ever.

He was supposed to make one last good memory with each member of his family... _OH,_ _SOD IT!_

Percy cleared his throat. "I will most definitely not be told that I cannot sit down with my own family to—"

 _"CHARLIE, COME AND TAKE PERCY UPSTAIRS!"_ Molly's voice was giving Percy a headache.

" _NO_ , I'm _NOT_ going to take Percy upstairs!" Charlie said from the doorframe. He was shirtless and wearing a pair of loose sweatpants. He was sweating as well, so Percy supposed that he'd been busy bench-pressing something large—like the Burrow or their father's shed. "This rule about Percy and George not being in the same room is bloody ridiculous! Do you know what else isn't around at the dinner table besides Percy…? _A BLOODY CRUP!"_

Charlie cocked his head to one side, his cheeks reddening. "And you know what, Mum? I have this sneaking suspicion in my gut that someone told Percy _not_ to come to Gin's wedding and I swear on Merlin himself that if I found out Bill is involved, I'll tear off that sodding ponytail with my own bare hands!"

"Bill?" Molly was shocked. _"THAT IS THE MOST RIDICULOUS THING THAT YOU'VE EVER SAID!"_

Molly sloppily filled a bowl and shoved it to Percy. He flinched when hot porridge oats made contact with his skin.

" _Why_ would Bill tell Percy not to come to Ginny's wedding? It doesn't make any sense! George went to Angelina's to sleep because he hasn't fallen asleep in months in his room. She'd even missed Harry and Ginny's wedding to make sure that nothing happened to him! There was no reason why Percy couldn't come to the wedding!" Molly raised an eyebrow and shaking her head. " _Bill_ was devastated when Percy didn't come to his own!"

Percy was so stunned at the realisation that _George wasn't even at the bloody wedding_ that he didn't even feel the pain of blobs of piping hot porridge splodge against his clothed arm. He was so shocked he didn't know what to say.

He just stared at Molly with giant blue eyes, and then he wondered when his mother stopped loving him.

Arthur walked into the room, newspaper in his hands. "What is going on in—"

"Do you know what's the most ridiculous thing _you've_ ever said, mum?" Charlie asked her, and then in a mock, shrill tone said: " _CHARLIE, I LOVE YOU ALL EQUALLY!_ Except for Percy. No, let him stay upstairs to have his tea! I am so scared that George will throw a fit and I wouldn't be able to deal with him that I would let one of my children miss out on everything this family does! It's completely alright that your father took Percy's chair away and even _THE BLOODY HANDLE ON THE FAMILY CLOCK!_ I can't keep on replacing all the things that George breaks after all! _OH, BY THE WAY, CHARLIE_ , we've eaten practically everything tonight, but now that I remembered that Percy existed, I'll have you send him a few roast potatoes and a carrot, because it's not like he eats anything anyway! The fact that he is so underweight it literally might kill him doesn't bother me at all!"

Molly looked ten seconds close to a mental breakdown. _"IT'S NOT LIKE THAT AT ALL! I—"_

Arthur placed a hand on Percy's shoulder. "Percy?" he said in a soft voice. "We need to talk."

Percy nodded his head. He wanted to get away from all the drama as soon as he could.

Percy left with his father, and spent at least five minutes of his last day on this Earth to clean off the splodges of porridge on his arm, and pretended that he wasn't completely dejected at what just happened in the kitchen.

Arthur wouldn't tell Percy anything about where they were going except for the fact that they were leaving for muggle London. Percy didn't think much of it. One minute they were in the Burrow and the next, they were walking down muggle streets that Percy practically knew by heart now, even though he had only lived here for a few years.

"There are mailing boxes!" Arthur went on happily. "I bet that this is like our owl transportation system and…"

Percy had no interest in how muggle mail was transported. The only thing he was sure of was that they didn't chuck your expensive paralysis-inducing potion down the rubbish bin.

"…and oh, these houses! I bet that these are all powered by eckeltricity like I've seen before! Oh, do you think that even the mailing boxes use some form of eckeltricity? Oh, and what about the muggle transportation vehicles!"

The more he was in London, the more nostalgic he felt. Percy remembered those days where he peered out of his window when it was so early that it was still dark outside, drinking his first mug of coffee that day. Hermes would hoot in excitement when he noticed that there were more than three clouds in the bright blue skies.

"These shops look so different than ours!" Arthur yelled out in excitement. Percy surely hoped he didn't find one of those shops in muggle London that Percy realised paid _risqué_ adaptations in secret, darkly lit rooms. Disgusting.

As he walked, Percy reminisced about how warm his couch was in his flat. He used to be sat on it to do his late-night reports. He usually found himself sprawled on the floor at some point, which strangely enough, was even more comfortable than his couch. Percy remembered the times that he saw Audrey walk out from her flat just as he turned in, talking in her muggle fellytone and laughing ever so often. Percy remembered the days where he was exhausted and full of caffeine, resting his head warily in his office at his job, but feeling oddly satisfied at the amount of work that he was getting done and then attempted to drag his tired body through seven flights of stairs!

"And oh, even their crups are different than ours!" Arthur noted. "Oh, _that_ one isn't very friendly!"

Percy was in his own head right now. Oh, he had been so annoyed when he had gotten hooked on muggle sweets from London – apples and bananas in his fruit bowls kept on getting replaced by mountains of Terry's milk chocolate orange, his horrific Costa addiction and his ability to waste many, many pounds in Marks and Spencer's for anything that read _banoffee_ and _pudding_ in the title. Merlin, he had no idea how he still had teeth after all that _SUGAR!_

And when exactly did he start to be so bland and boring? He used to eat whatever he wanted! He used to even _sleep in_ during his holidays and weekends. He even had mates before in Hogwarts—most of them prefects and in the debate team, but he _still_ had mates! He used to be able to smile! Percy frowned at the thought of when it all went wrong.

They hadn't stopped when he left his family. No, he had so many good memories here in muggle London. He'd even made a few muggle mates! Where did they all _GO?_ When had he decided to stop going out with his wizarding mates to explore muggle London? To stop eating so much rubbish? When was the last time had he gotten hammered with his mates to celebrate something special…?

After he left the Burrow, he'd called out a Ravenclaw prefect and they went out to a high-powered game of chess. And then they got smashed. And then they tried muggle McDonald's for the first time in their lives.

Percy's stomach had been upset for days after, but he vaguely remembered that _it was so worth it_ feeling he'd had!

When had he become so alone? Percy didn't understand this. When had people stopped asking him to do things with them? How did he _stop noticing_ that people had stopped inviting him to nights out in muggle London?

Percy hadn't thought about any mates in ages. He knew that pretty much all of them had died, and they somehow got dissolved with the horrors of the war. He hadn't thought to visit their graves, or ask about them, but it had been overshadowed by the fact that _FRED HAD DIED_. Percy had never considered that before. He had been so stuck in his own head; he'd spent so long missing his family that he'd forgotten about all the good feelings and experiences he had _after_ he left the Burrow! He forgot about what made him leave in the first place! He'd forgotten about who, in the darkest part of the war, had been holding onto him and telling him that it was going to be fine!

Now, his mates were dead in the ground and Percy hadn't even given those people a second thought. Because he'd been clinging onto Fred's lifeless body. And then his family had the _GALL_ to tell him that he didn't care about Fred!

As Percy was washed over with warm memories, he found a steely feeling in his stomach when he realised exactly that Arthur was taking him back to his old flat. All this reminiscence suddenly put him in a mood. What kind of bloke didn't think about their dead mates for _nearly a year?_ That had to be a disgusting record—a new one too! So, now, he was an awful friend _and_ a real selfish git. The closer he was towards the flat, the more that he wanted to run away from it because the memories that were flashing right before his eyes just made him want to die right there in the spot.

He didn't deserve anything anymore. How could he forget about the people that took him out after he left his family and kept on telling him that he was right and that they were wrong? Deplorable. Bloody deplorable.

"… and do you know what Perkins told me he found out about my old department? Well…" his father continued to talk as Percy's world was falling apart right before his own eyes. No wonder he had a permanent bloody scowl.

They walked up those seven flights of steps. Percy had not gotten any better at walking up the steps.

Percy knew that his father had come around here a few times to see how he'd been getting on during the war. What he didn't know was how much this place meant to him. Percy probably had as many memories in the few years that he spent in small little flat and this little part of London as he did spending a whole decade in the Burrow. And he didn't deserve any of them. _How dare he? How bloody dare he?_ He destroyed George. He forgot about all the mates. He was this disgusting human being that had wrecked his family multiple times. He forced Penelope into a relationship that she didn't want to be in and she _TRIED_ to fall in love with him to the point where she said she'd marry him!

And yet, the second that he walked down that hallway, all that Percy's mind could register was _home_.

The clean, crisp hallways, the leathery smell that came out of nowhere, the sight of those long, empty halls and feeling the old carpet underneath his feet. _Home. Home. Home_.

Arthur walked towards Audrey's flat and knocked on her door. Percy just wanted to sprint out of there as fast as he could, and then stay alone for the rest of the day. His heart was pounding out of his chest, as Audrey opened the door and then seemed surprised to see Percy. She placed a hand on the biscuit necklace that he'd bought her. Her hair was a right state, and her cheeks were flushed. She looked like she'd been fighting off Cornish pixies for the past few days. She looked exhausted, and she was wearing a pair of extremely wide pants and a white shirt.

Percy looked at Arthur, who had just decided to apparate away and nearly give Audrey a heart attack. Well, Percy couldn't really blame his father—going through those seven flights of stairs was enough the first time around.

Audrey invited him into her flat. Percy noticed that not much had changed since he'd last been here—just walking in here made him want to gauge his eyes out because of the assault of ten-thousand-and-one different shades of radioactive pink and purple. Audrey was standing over her oven. She had her mittens out and then pulled out these gigantic pastries from the oven. She also had a soup pot boiling and bubbling away. When she sliced into one of the pasties, Percy groaned when he realised it was a ruddy Cornish pasty. Wherever he went, those things were practically haunting him. He loathed them since he was a child, even though they were one of the things he ate the most because they were so cheap—only a few knuts. She also had a huge Victoria sponge out. Percy hadn't remembered the last time he'd have a Victoria sponge. He used to like them when he was about… well, _fifteen_. What? How manly was it of him to eat something called a _VICTORIA SPONGE?_ Like he needed to give blokes another reason to make fun of him!

At the corner of his eyes, he noticed a box at the end of the room filled with his letters!

Percy moved closer towards the box of letters. They were… _unopened_. "Audrey, what is this?"

Audrey went so red she matched her bra—not that Percy was judging, but one typically did not wear a bright red bra underneath a _very_ thin, white shirt. "I…I don't know how to open them!"

Percy's jaw dropped. He had thought of many different reasons for why Audrey did not reply to him, but not being able to break _his seal_ was one he surely didn't contemplate. Pulling one letter up, Percy could see that she tried to _light a few on fire_ to try and open it. Percy hoped she didn't try to put one in her Vitamix!

"You did not reply to my letters because you did not know how to open a seal?" Percy could barely believe it.

"It was… _STICKY!_ And _OLD!"_ Audrey explained and Percy trying not to guffaw. _"IT IS NOT FUNNY!"_

Percy shook his head and placed the envelope back into the pile of others that she couldn't open. He looked back at her with shining eyes. "You could've send me a letter back to tell me that you did not know how to open my seal."

"I _tried_ to, but your bloody owl was more interested in my baking!" Audrey said in irritation, crossing her arms over her chest. "For a week, he made sure that all my Bakewell tarts were… not baked well!"

Percy just smiled at the thought. "Well, the letters are if it makes you feel any better. In fact, a little too well-done for my liking." He'd always prided himself in having enough roughage in his diet, but this took the gluten-free cake!

She smiled a little and looked down at her pasty. "I've had this wonderful news I've been wanting to tell you for ages!"

Percy didn't know why, but he felt the need to take a risk and tell her that thing that he'd been wanting to tell her for ages now—that he was obsessed with her more than he was obsessed with his Prefect badge in high school. Perhaps, dying was a good incentive for these sorts of romance-based dilemmas.

"As do I," he cleared his throat. "I believe that I am in love with—"

"I met a new bloke in my college course. He's the most wonderful person that I've ever met!" Audrey explained in excitement, as Percy's heart pounded into his ears. "I'm going out with him tonight for the third time this month— _AND_ it's only the first weekend of the month! It's going well! My mum _LOVES_ him!"

"— _you_ ," Percy finished off weakly with a reddening of his ears. Her mum loved him too! _He_ ate her soup!

"And I've worn some fancy underpants too to make myself feel good because honestly, I need the extra confidence boost since he's _SO_ gorgeous and—" Audrey paused for a moment, digesting what Percy had just told her. Meanwhile, Percy was still digesting… her mother's soup. "You…?"

Percy simply nodded his head. "Yes."

"Oh, honey!" Audrey said almost automatically. "I'm so sorry!"

Could Percy be having a heart attack? Was this how it felt like?

"I didn't know—I've never even thought about it!" She said. That _really_ gave him a confidence boost. "We are two completely different people with completely different personalities that pretty much clash with each other! You and I being together is probably like trying to mix custard creams with stodgy old bread— _it doesn't work_."

She flinched at her own wording. "Sorry," she offered a watery smile. " _You_ are not a stodgy slice of bread. _I_ am."

Percy did not like custard creams to begin with.

He didn't know why he felt so dejected as he did. He didn't say those words with the expectation that Audrey was going to proclaim her undying love for him, but _why_ did it still hurt this much to hear this?

"I… _um_ …" she wasn't even meeting his eyes then. And it was very tense in the room now. "Do you want a biscuit?"

"No, I would like to leave now, love," Percy said in a stern voice, and she looked up at him with emotional brown eyes. "I have been rejected before. I do not typically want to hear about what a wonderful bloke I am."

"Of… of course," Audrey nodded her head at him, and then gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Oh! I didn't mean to—"

"It's alright," Percy felt more rigid than stone. He bet her wonderful new boyfriend didn't have this problem. "I know that it was not meant to imply anything," he swallowed the lump in his throat, and she offered a weak smile.

"You really are a wonderful bloke though," she tried to say. _But not for me_ , he could practically hear her say. "Any girl would be lucky to have you. I'm sure that down the line, you'll meet someone that will… _um_ —"

"Thank you," Percy cut her off, and then she placed her hand on his cheek. For a bloke that weighed so little, he certainly wished that he felt far more invisible than he was.

"Hey," she grabbed his hand and squeezed it. _"I'm sorry,"_ she repeated one more time.

"It's alright," he just offered what felt like the fakest smile that he could. He squeezed her hand back and then he left.

Percy didn't know whether or not to go back and tell her more things. He decided against it, and went down to the coffee shop where Arthur took Percy back home—chattering about nonsensical things along the way.

"The coffee shop gave me squirty cream from a bottle!" Arthur exclaimed. Percy did not know what this had to do with muggles, because non-muggle cafes also gave them squirty cream from the bottle. "It had hundreds and thousands in it, marshmallows and caramel sauce! These muggles know how to… _party!"_

Percy could have died without hearing his father say that.

When he came back home, Percy saw that Ginny had all the things he'd _EVER_ given her put into a singular box.

Just as Percy was about to ask her what was going on, she thrusted the box to his chest.

"I don't want these things in my life anymore," said Ginny in an annoyed voice, her facial expression cold. "In fact, _I_ don't want you in _my life_ anymore, Percy… I'm sick of being disappointed by you!" And then she apparated away.

Percy looked down at the box and felt his chest ache—everything from the very first stuffed dragon that he'd given her for her third birthday down to the most recent bits of very expensive jewellery that he'd gotten her at her seventeenth as an apology for not actually being there. He could see little uneaten packets of limited edition chocolate frogs (that fortunately, did not have an expiration date) all wrapped in little ribbons, and necklaces that he'd made with his own hands when he was ten. Molly had taught him how to make necklaces, rings, flower crowns, and Christmas sweaters from a young age. He used to make all of those for Ginny all the time. The box was absolutely bursting with light, pink Christmas sweaters and shiny baubles filled with preserved baby flower petals.

Staring at the box made him feel sad because he realised how much she hated him—and in the same breadth, he realised _how much he had changed_. Percy used to do so much with his own two hands. He used to draw on his books little things that he couldn't imagine—lakes that stretched so far that the whole world would become submerged in it, towers so tall that they reached the sky, and flowers with so many colours that they could make a blind man weep.

Percy's only weapon now seemed to be his quill. To write _giant reports_.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd made something or written something that was not from obligation.

Taking the heavy box upstairs, Percy sat down. He could spend the last few hours doing something productive, but all he could think about was how he used to be such a good person and now, he wasn't anymore. He didn't understand what had left him so rotten and unlovable in the past few years, but he had been _so different_.

"But _you_ still love me," Percy told Hermes, who was standing on the edge of the window. "Don't you?"

His owl looked like he wanted to murder him for even considering otherwise. Before Percy could ask anymore questions, Hermes disappeared and returned with a dark chocolate and almond butter flapjack.

Percy rolled his eyes, as he let Hermes sat down on his lap to be stroked and tended to.

He was smiling now, and he felt happy for a few minutes even. Percy was sure that Hermes was the only good consistent thing in his life. "I managed to scrape through a lot of money in the past week," he told his owl.

"Kingsley found out that I was not being paid appropriately by Thicknesse and sent me a full compensation for it," Percy ran his hands through his wine-red curls. "In fact, he had sent me enough money to buy a house," _or a coffin—those things are bloody expensive_ , Percy thought quietly to himself. "I used some of it so that you would spend a year being pampered in this exclusive owl spa and resort starting tomorrow."

Percy could practically see his family hate him for spending so much money on his owl. His owl probably didn't cost nearly a hundredth of what Percy usually spent on him in a year.

"You will enjoy it there," Percy was smiling weakly. "There are no dry flapjacks there… and _many_ female owls."

Percy looked up at the ceiling and swallowed. "I think you'd have better luck that I did," he smiled again even though he felt like he'd just been stabbed with a hot, searing wand.

"Hermes, she…" he pursed his lips with thin lips. "She doesn't like me."

He felt so gutted. He cocked his head to one side, still stroking his owl's fur. It was such a familiar feeling to him.

He buried his head into that fur and inhaled that familiar smell that his owl had. It broke his heart to know that through the next year of total body pampering, Hermes would probably cease to smell like the mud and muck of the Burrow and would instead smell like the insides of Madam Primpernelle's Beautifying Potions.

"What do people typically say in the last few hours of their life?" Percy asked Hermes, raising an eyebrow.

He had read a lot of books, but he had never read many books about what was the typical protocol for suicide.

Percy felt… well, he was _happy_ _and angry and sad and horrified and excited_. At the same time, he felt _nothing_ at all…

He felt like it was just yesterday that he happily sat down in the Hogwarts' train, full of anticipation at all the things that he would learn. His mind kept fantasising about all the long broom rides that he would take when he learned how to be on one, to make friends that liked to read a lot (and he was sure that if he couldn't find a Gryffindor, he could definitely find a _Ravenclaw_ to bond with!) and all the warm, stodgy food that he was going to stuff himself silly with after a week of eating leftover spaghetti bolognese (not his mum's best dish unfortunately).

Percy remembered feeling warm, and energetic. He was unable to contain his smile and felt self-conscious of the extra padding around his stomach after all the wonderful trips down the ice-cream shop that he had that summer. He would talk to anyone that sat down next to him. He had thoughts and dreams that stretched farther than the sky could.

In the winter days, he would be wrapped in thick, warm blankets, in the Astronomy tower completing his star charts. In the summer, he would learn how to make summer clothes with all the charms he would learn from Charms, and he would impress Ginny with them. In the autumn, he would walk outsides and feel the leaves crunch behind his shoes after a decade of darkness. In the spring, he would watch the Herbology plants flourish and fall in love with the scent and feel of the warm, wet soil between his hands. And every day, he had this wonderful feeling that one day, he would become something bigger than even he could imagine. _And I could imagine a lot!_ Little Percy had thought to himself.

Now, he couldn't even imagine what he would like to do in the last few minutes of his life.

Even if he could've, all his plans seemed to disintegrate, and everything just went wrong. Percy could also remember eleven-year-old Percy coming home with his first ever _O_ —after spending weeks killing himself studying (barely sleeping, barely eating, but still found himself sometimes smiling at the thought of how accomplished he felt!), waving it in front of his father's face and getting no recognition for it whatsoever. Because Bill and Charlie _always_ got _O's_. Why should Percy be any different? Soon after he started Hogwarts, eleven-year-old Percy turned was affectionately dubbed 'Perfect Prefect Percy' by everyone else; a nickname originating with Charlie. Quickly soon after he started going to Hogwarts, Percy became a laughing stock, but he decided that he would show them. He spent long nights in the library, long enough to be kicked out by Madam Pince after falling asleep in a giant Potions textbook and amused Head Boy Charlie had to take Percy to his dorm room. Percy could still hear Charlie laughing with his mates about how boring Percy was. Charlie probably didn't think that Percy remembered from how tired he was, but he remembered every single word. From the times where Charlie's mates thought it funny to steal all his clothes and hide them, forcing him to go into his classes wearing nothing more than a pair of underpants down to the breakdown he had in the Great Hall, sobbing, and people laughing and crying at how big of a baby he was.

Percy was always extremely sensitive, something that Charlie hadn't forgotten to remind him practically every day of Percy's first year. So, Percy decided that he would not show a singular emotion or thought or any feeling of attachment in public ever again. And now, everyone knew him as this bloke that was like stone. _But it wasn't true_.

He felt so much all the time that he didn't know what to do with it. It— _it hurt too much_.

As Percy took a deep breath as all these memories assaulted his mind, George ran straight into Percy's room, sweaty, red-eyed and pale. Percy hadn't seen George in ages, but George was standing there, looking horrible.

"Perce, I _need_ your help! You're… you're the only one that could help me," George had no contempt in his voice. Percy just stared at him with horrified eyes. "I-I took too many sleeping potions. I… I wanted to die, Perce, _just_ for a second I wanted to die. I've… I've really mucked up. Please help me. Because I don't really wanna die… Please!"


	18. Chapter 18

_since i started writing this fanfiction, i had been dying to write this chapter. when i got to this chapter, it took me two weeks to write. i wanted to re-edit it and i did, but i'm honestly like... so happy about this chapter. i don't know if i edited it correctly since even i was just reading it, wanting to remember how i wrote this!_

 _of note, i don't know if this makes it any better but next chapter is Bill-centric. in fact, for the next few chapters, they are only secondary characters for i think about 4-5 chapters. which should be interesting._

 _by the way, there is about a definite chance Percy will die. when i wrote this fanfiction in the beginning, the chance was about 20%. now it's more like 80-90%. so expect him to die, and be surprised if i somehow find a way to end this without giving him an imminent death._

 _comment replies:_

 _ **Grin like the Cheshire Cat:** i honestly find it weird if i'd thank you for crying? well, this chapter is... not that happy. _

_**Sakura Lisel** **:** i lived writing that. but omg. yes, Percy should've stood up for himself and defended himself, but his self-esteem is legitimately so low. and he blamed/blames himself a lot for Fred's death, which is what catalysed the need for him to kill himself in the first place. Bill is a different story all together... my God. writing him is a rollercoaster (Bill, not Percy, but the same could be said for Percy!)_

 _ **LoonyLovegood1981** : thank you, my love. yes, i love Percy so much... but unfortunately, it only translates to angst and doom for me. _

_**finkles89** : oh, i don't know if Arthur mentions it in the POV chapter i made of him (that i need to edit severely but even during editing, i will probably forge this) but i am 99% sure i came to the conclusion that Arthur probably was using that as a way to cheer up Percy because he notices the tension in the house post Ginny wedding. _

_**Bravi** : "With the way this has been going, I'm sad at how much I WANT Percy to succeed with his plan." i've head that in a few reviews. it honestly surprised me. i think Percy is very convincing at explaining how he'd rather die then. "The worst and best thing in a sense is how out of all of this, death is the lesser evil." i know! i got stuck trying to think of what to write in this chapter and the next._

 _ **malfoyravenclaw555** **:** yes! my friend helped me with that one. normally i hate cliffhangers like that but i hopefully wrote it in a commendable fashion. _

_**pupjasmine** : i hope you didn't have to wait too long! ;)_

 _ **irene2005** : honestly, i loved reading that as a reason the universe is giving Percy not to die. i think it was a belated one given everything. partially because he's already drunken a potion that is technically going to kill him in a specific time restrain and he'd get an answer to whether or not he should die. and the universe is telling him no, but he's already had his plan in action. it is really... something._

 _ **RavenclawIrene** **:** again, i am so surprised by the number of people that actually just want Percy to die because it'll just relieve all his suffering. _

_**Phoenixx Rising** **:** as Percy said, the second worst day of his life. the first being George's death (i did not make that obvious but anyway.) i have to redeem those characters my God, but yes, Charlie is kind of amazing. i love him because i always make him pretty horrible in Percy's childhood but somehow really nice afterwards when they're older. _

_**imagine forevermore:** i think you're the first one that told me they don't want anyone dying. there are so many reviews i got with "just kill Percy" because they want him to stop suffering so much. i think this chapter gets even worse. this was one of the worst chapters to write but i absolutely loved writing it._

 _ **Kirlial** **:** thank you! i love that you noticed that bit about George... i did that in a low-key way and hoped someone could pick up that George obviously resonates with Percy a lot. _

* * *

**Love and Old Black Shoes**

Chapter Eighteen

* * *

Percy could not be creative enough to even consider what he wanted to do for the last six hours of his life.

Bashing himself violently, and stewing in his own self-loathing seemed like a safe option.

But he was certainly creative when it came to trying to figure out a solid, concrete plan to help George with the fact that ten minutes ago, he had intentionally ingested enough sleeping potion to kill a dragon.

"I'm sorry, Perce," George said as Percy was sat in the bathroom, watching George upchuck all over the place. "The thought was there just for a second. I've _never_ thought about killing myself before… and-and I won't do it again."

"George, you should _probably_ be breathing," replied Percy, rubbing circles in George's back.

"Good point," George wheezed, managing a weak smile. "Mate… you think this is how morning sickness is like?"

"I think this is how _you're_ like after you've had a few pints," Percy mumbled in irritation and George laughed from a combination of delirium, hysteria, fear and probable severe dehydration. Percy got a water bottle from George's stash—he obviously, just as Percy, decided to seclude themselves from the world.

About five minutes ago, Percy had given George… well, a _Puking Pastille_.

Yes, it was one of the faulty ones. Unfortunately, the only Skiving Snackboxes George had in his room were defective ones where the other end didn't help you feel better. But _unlike_ George's big self-harm episode, Percy did not make George consume _tens and tens_ of the boxes, or force him to scoff and choke down enough sweets to make most Halloween parties look like they were advocating for health and fitness!

It was _ONE_ Puking Pastille. But Percy knew that he would get Azkaban for this if any of his family members found out that he had purposely made George consume _a_ faulty sweet after George's self-destructive birthday binge.

"Perce, I'm scared," George whispered. "I didn't really want to do it… _honest_."

For a second, he remembered little George scared to climb that ladder. Percy's eyes watered.

"But for a _second_ I did, and that… that _scared_ me. I felt like I couldn't control myself—like I had to do it, like nothing would ever get any better again," George said very slowly, even though he looked like he was going to upchuck again any second. "And-and the second I've done drank the lot, I realised… what a-what a stupid mistake I've made!"

George was crying right now, and looking up at him with sad, dark brown eyes.

"Merlin, I've been a right arse towards you the past few months," George shook his head, tears spilling faster. "And mum and dad and _everyone_ —they've been… they've been ruddy awful to you! _BECAUSE OF ME!"_

George was sobbing now. "They've… they've taken your handle off the ruddy clock, so _I_ wouldn't try to chuck it into the fire… _again_. They've taken your things off the table, so _I_ wouldn't have any more rows around the dinner table. You've not had a proper Sunday roast with us all together in _months_."

Percy cocked his head. "Well, I've had a few roast potatoes and once, a Yorkshire pud—"

 _"LOOK AT HOW MUCH OF A BLOODY HIPPOCRITE I AM!"_ George yelled. "First of trouble, the most scared I am in months, and the _ONLY_ person I feel comfortable enough to go to is… _IS YOU!_ The one bloke I've been demonising for _months_ now, made you seem like you belong in Azkaban rotting along with all the Death Eaters!"

George shook his head violently again, tears still cascading down his cheeks as he looked up at Percy with that vulnerable face that Percy was sure was more painful than any Cruciatus curse.

"I'm surprised you even listened to me," George admitted, voice soft. "Merlin, Percy, you're _such a saint_."

Percy crouched down, even though it was unsanitary. Merlin, he wanted to cut off his already manky toes.

"Stop it. You're _probably_ delirious," Percy told him, placing a hand on George's muscled arm. How was he his baby brother? George could knock him out without much effort. How come George even looked remotely like Charlie when he'd never even eaten one of the Quality Quidditch Supplies' line of Quidditch _Calorie Chasers!_ protein bars?

How could help George when he had the same thoughts and problem? What was he going to tell George? _Yes! I know exactly how you feel. In fact, I will die in six hours and I've planned my suicide a year ago to ensure maximum theatricality?_

George just laughed, but it was an empty laugh. "I'm _not_ delirious," he paused. "What were we talking about again?"

"I will take you to St Mungo's," Percy was surprised at how calm he seemed. "They will make sure you're hydrated. Mind you, you're spewing more sense than you have in years with this puking problem you've been having."

Look! Percy now had zen-like quality that would make Trelawney jealous!

"Is _that_ a joke?" George inquired, wiping the vomit of his mouth. This might be the only time that Percy felt slightly more attractive than George and it disappeared in a millisecond. "Merlin, I really must be dying."

"Absolutely not," Percy said. "It's against _my_ rules for you to die."

"I live 'til I'm a million in your rule book then?" George drowsily asked.

Before the Puking Pastille, George was about to go into a coma. After the Puking Pastille, George was tired, drowsy but away and felt like punching Percy in the face whenever he shoved another water bottle in front of his face. Which was a good sign of the fact that George was probably _not_ going to die in the next ten minutes.

"Godric no," Percy grimaced. "If you live that long, there will be regulations on Pygmy Puff trafficking in schools."

George only offered back a tired-looking facial expression and glossy eyes… but at least he was awake!

Percy had gone off to St Mungo's, sleepy George in hands. George was urgently admitted in about less than fifteen minutes. Percy might've had an emergency memo a certain blonde-haired, blue-eyed Ravenclaw (that broke his heart repeatedly and committed the cardinal sin of trying to force a Cornish pasty on him when he was dieting nearly ten years ago) to do this, but nonetheless, it was still done. And now, Percy was in the room with Penelope.

George was lying on the bed, swearing to Percy every time he felt nauseated. Which was _A LOT_.

For the next three hours, Percy wondered what to say to Penelope. He'd made her something ages ago when he was in Hogwarts. He found only recently, soon after Ginny gave him her box of rejected handmade trinkets and accessories. He used to make thing for Penelope too sometimes—not very many things. Sixteen-year-old Percy had always been afraid someone would find out and tease him… or even worse, tease _PENELOPE_. But once, he spent half a year making a Penelope cloth doll, with long sunny yellow yarn for her hair, silky fabric as robes, the best buttons in his mum's sewing kit for eyes, and the most intricately stitched mouth he'd ever made on a doll.

Percy wanted to give it to her for Christmas, but Hermes had gotten very ill and couldn't send it. Penelope and him had a row when he'd gotten back to Hogwarts and they didn't speak for all of… well, six hours.

He'd bought it with him when he realised that he was going to see her in St Mungo's today.

Just as George fell asleep (fortunately _not dying from potion overdose_ asleep, but rather _I'm tired I'm gonna fall asleep because I've been_ _vomiting_ asleep). Percy also knew that George was not dead because he was snoring, and tossed and turned a few times before he went into a restful sleep where he was mumbling incoherent things. Even asleep, dehydrated from vomiting, and nearly having have killed himself, George still looked bloody attractive. Bloody arsehole. Percy didn't understand how his family could always look good… even if they'd spent the last hour puking half their body fluid!

Percy cleared his throat when he was alone with Penelope and took out the doll from his rucksack.

"I've made this for you ages ago. I just… didn't know how to give it to you," he offered the doll to her.

Penelope seemed surprised, but accepted the doll tentatively.

For a moment, Percy wondered what happened to the love that they had—if she'd _ever_ had any for him—and how it all withered away in a blink of an eye. Whatever they built in years had disintegrated into ash and ether in a matter of minutes. At some point, Percy had been so sure that he was going to see her face every morning for the rest of his life.

Now, he only got a mouthful of owl fur and Hermes trying to throw flapjacks at him. Equally as magical, of course.

"Thank you," Penelope looked like she wanted to throw that doll in the Great Lake. "This is very nice."

"You… you are welcome," Percy couldn't even remember what his last interaction with Penelope was.

"I don't think we should see each other anymore after today," Penelope told him.

Percy stiffened. He was sure if he was any stiffer, he might make Fred look lively.

"We keep doing this thing with each other and…" Penelope tried to unsuccessfully explain. "Of course, I was very happy to do this favour for you, especially because I've been worried about George since Fred— _well_ — _um_ …"

She looked at him with a serious facial expression. "Truth is we're not even _friends_ anymore, Percy. Especially after we've exhausted our favour quota for a long time now. I don't think I owe you anything anymore…"

"That's odd," Percy said, his voice soft. "I was under the impression that friends did not owe friends _favours_."

She flinched and clutched his doll hard enough to pop one of her dark blue button eyes.

"And I wasn't even under the impression that we were friends," Percy also felt the need to tell her that and: "You left me after lying to me for months about the fact that you were pregnant with _MY_ child. You refused to listen to me repeatedly when I told you that he is not a good person. And when Oliver Wood cheated on _YOU_ , you decided to keep your sad little marriage bound together because of your obsession with him—"

"It is not my obsession with him! I'm _IN LOVE_ with him!" Penelope shouted, gripping so tightly on the doll that it squeaked and started to deflate. "Something I couldn't do with you! In fact, I'm not sure if there is a single woman in this world that _COULD_ love someone that has about as much emotion and love as _YOU!_ Did you really love _ME?_ Because I'm having a hard time figuring out if you actually care about anyone other than _YOURSELF!"_

Percy apparently took a lot of risks today. None of them paid off, especially when his family would find out that he'd made George consume a faulty Puking Pastille prior to the hospital admission.

"Oh, Percy, I'm sorry," Penelope said, placing her hands on his elbows. "I didn't mean it like that."

He was sick of people telling him things like this, saying the word sorry and thinking that it was magically fine.

No, he could not forget that his own _MOTHER_ told him that she didn't care if died alone and miserable. No, he could not forget the fact that Ron told him that he'd wished that he had died instead of Fred. No, he could not forget that his father took off _his_ handle off the clock and took of _his_ chair from the dining table. No, he did not forget how much it hurt that his father thought as low of him as to make that jibe about how his dancing and drinking at work after he'd sunken so low in his own depression. No, he could not forget that time that Bill didn't wake him up for Christmas dinner after the kip he'd had, and seven-year-old Percy was alone in his room for three days because he didn't feel well and nobody bothered to check up on him. No, he would not forget the fact that Penelope just disregarded the feelings that he'd had for her for _YEARS_ because he did not write poems and sonnets about how he felt about her! No, he could not forget the fact that his Uncle Fabian took him to a room full of bloodied, mangled bodies that gave him nightmares for _YEARS_ afterwards and somehow, he was the only one alive that knew that this had happened. And he _HIT HIM!_ How could you hit a _FIVE_ -year-old child that had a near photographic memory?

"It's… it's fine," Percy replied. He had to say that, because if he said anything else, he'd break down entirely.

"It's fine?" Penelope echoed. She looked at him suspiciously for a moment. "Really? _It's fine?"_

 _Well, what do you want me to say?_ Percy thought to himself. _YOU rejected ME! I don't owe you ANYTHING!_

"Yes," Percy knew that her hostility was because that to her, that _it's fine_ response confirmed that he legitimately had no emotions for anything other than cauldron bottoms and broomstick regulation control.

He watched Penelope shake her head mutely and then sighed deeply before walking away. She'd thrown the dismantled doll on the ground after it had been thrashed around by her hands. He could feel his inner sixteen-year-old thrash around the room, yelling _It's not FAIR! I made it for her! I spent HALF A YEAR making it for her! How can she say I have no bloody feelings?! Does she want me to fill a twelve-foot parchment full of serenades for her during the holiday? And the bloody best part is that she left me for Oliver Wood! The only other bloke in my entire year that cares more about Quidditch more than anyone else? Just because he has that Witch Weekly Award-Winning Smile, she thinks that that he gives a Scabber's arse about HER? Well, if he bloody did then he wouldn't have stuck his knob into another woman in 'serious times of distress'!_ and then Percy would bury down those feelings with essays he had to write. He'd be off with other Ravenclaw blokes, insisting that he did not need to get trashed and then end up coming to his dorm room flustered and plastered.

Twenty-three-year-old Percy didn't have the luxury of ranting about it. Twenty-three-year-old Percy got rejected by so many people that he was under the impression that _HE_ really was the problem now. There was something so seriously wrong with him, and he did not know what it was… but nobody would have to deal with it anymore after today.

After Penelope left, Percy was just left alone with a sleeping George for the next fifteen minutes.

Then his family came around and Percy knew that they were going to have a go at him too. Mentally, Percy was preparing for a right send-off. He couldn't feel anything anymore by then. Or maybe he did feel something, but his heart felt so heavy and it ached so much he didn't feel like anything could hurt him even _more_. But he also knew that his family would make him feel worse. He just knew it… because they _never_ failed to make him feel worse.

Molly was wearing the same pair of old, tattered robes that she had been for four days now. His father did not look energetic as he did just that afternoon; he looked like he wanted a drink more than anything.

George suddenly sat up straight and then turned to his side to vomit violently into the rubbish bin before he fell back asleep within the same few seconds. Standing up straighter, Charlie moved to pull the sheets over George's body.

George curled up into the sheets, and buried his head into his pillow, snoozing.

"In the few hours you've been in the hospital, you git," Bill sounded relatively calm despite how he looked like, "Did you ever consider sending us an owl trying to point us to the fact that _GEORGE_ is in the _HOSPITAL?"_

Percy looked affronted. "George came to _ME_ for help. Not to you!"

Bill looked seriously offended by that. Percy didn't care anymore. No matter what he said, Bill was going to hate him and be outraged and offended. Percy did not have enough energy in himself to sugar coat _anything_ —he was no Florean Fortescue and he would never _be_ a Florean Fortescue. Besides, Percy only told Bill the truth. George said it to Percy, plain as day, that he only felt comfortable enough coming to _PERCY_ for this delicate manner despite all that happened between them in the last month. Evidently, George did not feel safe around other people that supposedly only cared about his wellbeing. And when taking him to the hospital, Percy purposely exempted telling _ANYONE_ about it because the last thing that George needed was his _WHOLE FAMILY_ bombard him with questions when George had repeatedly told Percy that it was a mistake, that he was scared of himself… how could he cope with this if there were people sticking their noses into his business and asking him why had considered killing himself for?

"Yeah, and George ceased being my brother when he came to you for help then, did it?" Bill challenged.

Percy crossed his arms. "Well, apparently, _I_ ceased being yours for lesser than that."

"Well, if your head wasn't so far up your own arse that you couldn't tell right from left, then maybe people wouldn't leave you," Bill's words stung this time, because he knew that they were true somehow. Even when he tried to be a good person, it didn't work out. And he wasn't. Bill had to be right because nobody liked him anymore, and they _always_ had to look at all of Percy's mistakes like they were fatal errors. "When you don't have any friends whatsoever, can't keep any girl interested in you even after you buy her expensive jewellery, and your own family wants to bloody kick you out of the house then I think it's time to admit that you're a bloody mistake."

The room was quiet, but inside, Percy was screaming.

 _"I'M NOT A MISTAKE!"_ Percy didn't know why he yelled that out so high, when his self-esteem was so low, when he literally thought the lowliest of himself… he still had more love for the body that he mutilated than anyone else did.

"Come off it!" Bill told him like it was a ludicrous thing, like what he said was true and couldn't be questioned.

Percy darted his eyes back to everyone else in the room—his parents, Ginny, Ron, Charlie, and it wasn't like poor unconscious George could say anything. How could they _ALL_ agree with Bill? What did he do wrong _NOW?_

Suddenly, Percy felt all of about three years old, instead of twenty-three.

He felt like crying and screaming about how much he wanted to die and about all the things that they'd told him that he kept on repeating every night until he bloody cried himself to sleep. He bet if he did that, he'd heard people telling to _stop being so childish_. And that thought made his throat swell and his eyes water.

"What was this supposed to be anyway? You not calling us to tell us about how George is in the hospital _AGAIN?_ Like he hadn't nearly died the bloody last time he was here _TWO WEEKS_ ago!" Ron placed his hands into the pockets of his robes. Strangely enough, Ron seemed nicer than everyone else. He didn't look like he wanted to strangle Percy. "Was this revenge for us not calling you down for the tuna pasta bake that we had for dinner yesterday?"

Unfortunately for him, Ginny was just as unforgiving as Bill. Apparently, missing her wedding turned her into a… pardon his French, a real bloody bitch. "You should be lucky you even get anything with that bloody attitude."

 _What am I? A BLOODY CRUP?_ Percy thought. Was she implying that he should be grateful for the _five roast potatoes_ he got every night? What a bloody joke!

Percy wrapped his arms around himself, staring at the scene unfold before him in disbelief.

And they didn't even know that Percy had given George a Puking Pastille yet! If they did, they'd probably have disowned him right then on the bloody spot and told him to get out of the Burrow before he contaminated the place!

Percy knew that he had intentionally made himself seem as cold and as unlovable as he could in a couple of months to anyone that was willing to help him… but was that enough to warrant _THIS reception?_

What about the years of memories that he made with them before? Were those just not important anymore? All washed off with two months' worth of useless, stupid rows and a disagreement about the Ministry because of his big, fat head. What a _LOAD_ of _BOLLOCKS!_ Was _THIS_ the foundation of his family?

If Percy even implicated to Ron that his beloved Hermione had a stick up her arse, he surely wouldn't be able to walk straight for two weeks! She had this idea about magical creature welfare that if Percy pitched out, he'd be laughed at and ridiculed to the point where he'd wished he'd never opened his mouth in the first bloody place!

How was he supposed to even fathom living in the world where his own brother told him straight up that he was a mistake, and nobody else tried to say anything _OTHERWISE?_

Why was he still surprised when they told him these things…?

For the first time in a very long time, Percy was suddenly aware of how very small and skinny and genuinely emaciated that he was. And it made him feel sick that he could feel how bony he was with his arms wrapped around himself like this and he could practically feel how close to _death_ he was… and then his youngest siblings said those things about him being _desperate for a piece of that sodding tuna pasta bake?_

He was suddenly feeling sick. He couldn't stay in that room anymore.

If Percy stayed in that room for a minute more, he was sure that he would literally break down, and then slice his arms in front of everyone, and whilst waiting for him to be admitted by the excruciating long process in Emergency, Percy's potion would finally reach its maximum potential and he would be a pile of dissonant blood and bodily fluids with a little skin and extremely little muscle to keep it all together.

This was the second worst day of his entire life. He just wanted it to be over.

Percy didn't even want to wait the last two or three hours. They were too long. Percy was scared that in those few hours left of his life, the Minister himself would come right up to him and tell him that he should kill himself whilst he had an orchestra of small children serenade about the grotesque ways he should be dying in and his death would somehow achieve world-renowned peace. _Why not?_ Everyone else seemed to hate him.

Maybe he should buy them a sodding cake! So they could celebrate this day every single year!

 _The day that that stupid git finally did something right for once!_ Percy thought, feeling tears run down his cheeks as he pressed his back against the wall. He didn't even feel ashamed anymore that there were people with _REAL_ reasons to cry and he was having a sob because his sister told him that he was desperate for a tuna pasta bake!

Somehow, Percy dimly concluded that his death would be celebrated as a national holiday before his sobs really racked through his body. He was sobbing violently, but not that loud.

Percy wasn't scared of dying anymore. He might have had multiple panic attacks at the fear of dying alone, but he'd rather die alone than have someone in the room berating the way that he was dying _._

 _It really took you a year to plan this? Pathetic,_ Percy's head pounded.

After spending one of the last three hours of his life sobbing outside his brother's room, Percy wiped the tears off his face when he noticed Bill leaving the room. He pulled Percy up forcefully and shoved a book into his chest.

"Wipe that frown off your face. Here's the wonderful bloody letter that the Minister sent for you for your job, and you can go back to being Perfect Prefect Percy and forgetting all about the fact that you have a family," Bill said coldly.

Somewhere in the not-completely-broken parts of Percy's mind, he'd realised Bill had rationalised that the only reason Percy stayed so long with the Burrow was because he wasn't allowed to have a commendable job anymore. He literally thought that the second that Percy had a wonderful job opening, he would forget about the fact that George literally tried to kill himself today. Seriously? Percy didn't know why Bill hated him so much. Besides, the past few months, wasn't it _BILL_ that spent _HOURS AND HOURS WORKING OVERTIME_ to avoid the pain of losing Fred?

And what? He was in so much pain over Percy not being at his wedding that he decided he didn't want him to be at Ginny's either? Percy knew he was the absolute best at convoluted thinking, but Bill was starting to get him beat!

 _"Forget about the fact that I have a family?"_ Percy echoed incredulously. " _I_ was the only one that was trying to fix everything in the first bloody place! When you were busy attempting to avoid your own bloody responsibilities, _I_ was the one that came home. _I_ was the one that made sure the Burrow was safe. _I_ was the one that got to George—"

 _"AND YOU WERE THE BLOODY REASON WHY HE SHOVED DOWN FIFTEEN CASES OF SKIVING SNACKBOXES ON THE FIRST OF BLOODY APRIL!"_ Bill yelled back at him.

Percy shook his head. No, no, no, that wasn't true. George came to _him_ for help…

 _George was delirious and confused. He'd consumed several phials of strong sleeping potion. He didn't know what he was doing. When he'd wake up, he'd hate you again. How could you give him that faulty Puking Pastille when he literally tried to overdose on them two weeks ago and it nearly KILLED him?_ Percy's mind was jumping from one conclusion to the next and he didn't know which one was true. He didn't know what George actually thought about anything anymore. But he was certainly not waking up the bloke that literally got a couple of hours a sleep a _WEEK_ to try and sort this out!

"What is George in the hospital for, you sad stupid git?" Bill asked him. " _You know!_ I _… I_ know that _YOU_ know."

Percy didn't want to tell Bill that George tried to kill himself. He should hear that from _GEORGE_ himself, not from the bloke that he hated with the passion of a thousand phoenixes. George deserved that much.

"He was nauseous," Percy knew he was putting the final nail in his coffin, "So, I made him take a Puking Pastille."

Bill didn't even look furious anymore. He was speechless, and silence just hung in the air like an impending doom.

Percy watched Bill stare at him in the lowliest way possible, and then shake his head at him.

"I've _never_ wanted to hurt to someone as badly as I want to hurt you," Percy was sure that Bill couldn't make that statement even worse than he did but then he added on, "Not even the Death Eater that killed Fred."

Percy swallowed the lump in his throat, and Bill walked away. Well, _that_ was enough for today!

Before he got back to the house, Percy ended up buying a cake—the only other thing he'd done right in his life: he had the most wonderful tastes for cake. He bought this toffee sponge cake, which Percy thought was far superior to the Eton mess that Charlie insisted on eating every night. Though with how obsessive-compulsive Percy was, he believed he was a little biased to the pudding that had _mess_ in the name. He spent a quiet thirty minutes staring at this wonderful, gorgeous moist date-y creation. And with _TOFFEE SAUCE?_ Percy's heart felt weak, and he was reminded of that one Christmas he, the bloke with one of the fastest metabolisms he'd known to Merlin kind, managed to put on half a stone in a week because of how much sticky toffee pudding, banoffee pie and Bakewell tarts he ate in that week. _Half_ a stone! But because it had dates in it, it _had_ to be healthy and good for him. At least that was what he tried to tell himself when he couldn't fit into his medium sized sweatpants! Must be muscle… as if!

He placed a piece of parchment paper on the table and tried to write any kind of impactful final message. He left it on top of the plastic container of his sticky toffee cake. He felt both cold and warm on the inside.

In the last hour of his life, Percy went upstairs. He cleaned up and then used a few cleaning charms to make him feel like he'd just put these clothes on. He laid on top of his bed, and looked across to see Hermes waiting for him.

"You can leave me alone now," Percy told him. "You and I are both aware of what's going to happen now."

Hermes only inched closer to him, and Percy felt his heart sink into his chest.

" _You're_ not leaving me?" Percy said in a low voice. He had always thought that he was going to die alone!

Hermes disappeared momentarily and came back whizzing in with pictures for him. Percy didn't really expect that at all. He threw the stack of pictures all over his bed and let his eyes just drift to the first one he noticed. He found himself actually smiling. Most of them were old pictures of him and Hermes—Merlin, Hermes was so little then! And Percy certainly wasn't as photogenic as he once remembered! That was unsettling. He was no Adonis, but he didn't expect to look like something Adonis would spit at if he ever encountered it in a road. Pity.

"Where in Merlin's name did you get these from?" Percy didn't know if he was happily surprised or just appalled. "I look like something that would be rejected during the initial processes of fertilisation!"

Percy couldn't help but smiling and laughing as he leafed through the photos. "Oh, I remember this! That was the day that I told you about how much I wanted that new book in one of the bookstores in Diagon Alley, and you… stole it for me, you horrible, horrible owl… person… thing!"

Percy cocked his head at one of the more recent ones. "I thought I fixed that overbite problem with my teeth by then!"

There was that one that Percy was in the lavatory. " _WHO_ took this photograph?!"

There were at least a hundred photographs, and Percy was so fixated at trying to figure out when they were taken or what was going on in them that he didn't even notice the pain starting to happen. It was insane.

How could someone not notice the pain of their bone and flesh separating? But honestly, Percy didn't.

"And…" Percy pointed a weak, shaking blood finger at one of Hermes. "When did… oh— _UGH!"_

But when blood started leaking from his hands, he looked up to see Hermes standing at the end of the bed. There were photos spread all around them, and Percy suddenly felt his shoulders shaking.

"When did people stop loving me, Hermes?" Percy asked. "Do you have a photo for that?"

Suddenly, the hot-white fear reared its way around. All Percy could think about was that he didn't _want_ to die.

"Did they even like me…?" Percy didn't understand. He would love his own child, wouldn't he? He'd never tell him to die miserable and alone. He'd never let him be sat upstairs when they were having dinner.

Percy didn't think that he deserved to die sometimes. This was one of those times. He looked at Hermes with big, sad eyes. He knew that he had to. Percy didn't know how he could wake up tomorrow, knowing that everything that had happened today actually happened and he had to _deal_ with the fact that all those people that loved him so much said those horrible, horrible things about him _he didn't he couldn't breathe oh Merlin_ —

"Ginny is right," Percy said, nodding his head slowly at Hermes. The blood loss might have made his words meaningless. "I am desperate for a tuna pasta bake. It's one of my favourite things to eat."

He laid back against his bed. First, he felt the fear—and then came surging the horrifying _TORMENT_.

The pain was the worst that he'd ever felt in his life. He did not even know how to describe it. He could literally feel his cells being broken apart. He could feel his thorax being sliced in halves, little sparks going off in his burning lungs that were bubbling with what felt like a vat of antiseptics and fire. Percy was so shocked at the pain, so horrified at how much it hurt he literally could not move, scream or weep. He could feel the blood drain away from his body, and was surprised at the giant gashes starting to erupt from his pale skin. He knew that this was going to be violent, but he did not think that he was going to be literally seeing white connective tissue blobs seep out from gashes that were _so large and deep_ that Percy could see how his bone looked like underneath!

Percy rotated his searing, painful, horrifying limb like it was nothing. "Do you think even good-looking people have all these mucky, foul… _things_ inside of them?" he was finding it hard to believe that.

The pain just seemed to get worse and worse. He didn't know if only a minute had passed, or only an hour. It felt like an eternity. The whole world was a blur and the more he blinked, the more blood he saw.

Percy was sobbing by that point. "Do you think I'd get to see Fred?" he asked Hermes, who was stuffing tissue papers into the gashes at his legs. Percy didn't even notice those. He also didn't realise how his poor owl with his little talons was doing that as effective as he could. "Do you think he still _likes_ me?"

He felt _so much_ now! Nobody could tell him he was emotionless and cold _ever_ again!

At some point—though Percy was not sure _what_ point had become _some_ point—his hands were shaking faster so much they were practically vibrating from the blood loss and there was blood covering his glasses. He realised in one of his hands, he was holding the battered-looking stuffed crumple-horned snorkack that he didn't know where he found exactly. He, at some point, vaguely remembered asking Hermes if he, too, like sticky toffee pudding just like Percy did. Maybe that was when these grey spots started to form into his eyes. Maybe that was when he realised that it was over now. Maybe that was when he felt this warmth tingle into his spine and he remembered that moment that he felt safe and warm that morning when he tried his mum's porridge pot on the stove for the first time in _years_. The world was turning hazier, and yet the same time, vibrant. And then… very distantly, he could hear the sound of someone calling his name. Asking him to come to them. But they were so far away, and his body was so thick and heavy. And the last thing that he thought just before he succumbed to complete blackness was… _I just wanted people to like me._


	19. Chapter 19

_omg the reviews for last chapter have been incredible!_

 _ **I** **rnBruOrDeath** : i would say the ending i have in mind is bittersweet, but don't worry! i won't kill him until much later. there will be some reconciliation at least because if i kill him now, i feel like the fanfiction is half-finished. _

_**K.J. Bollinger** : i think i really made the Weasley's too evil. i want to redeem them over the next few chapters! :) _

_**Kirlial** **:** i most definitely am not killing him right now! that'll be too cruel. i am hoping for a little sweetness before that._

 _ **imagine forevermore** **:** "Is it bad that I don't want him to die but instead be loved and cherished but I don't know how such a huge change would happen in this story." trust me i considered that but i think i am physically incapable of writing Percy fluff that's in character for a long period of time. probably because he's such a pessimistic character by default. _

_**irene2005** **:** i love Hermes! but don't worry i can tell you for certain George is gonna be alive no matter how the plot heads. :)_

 _: i love reading everyone's comments on the killing Percy/keeping him alive issue. honestly, i have the same feeling and i'm /writing it/! even i can't decide. i had to talk to someone else just to get a fresh perspective._

 _ **pupjasmine** : no, he did not die... yet. _

_**frankiejoseph:** that's very true. i can't imagine such a dark story with a happy ending even if i do somehow make him survive. closest thing i can do is a bittersweet one. _

_**Grin like the Cheshire Cat** : i love seeing you guys' conflicting emotions. i totally get it. i'm the same weirdly enough and i'm the one writing it!_

 _ **RavenclawIrene** : "I always hated Molly, this only adds to the fuel;)" i love Molly, but i always write it like i hate her. and the chapter that you're referring to is Chapter 8... probably been trying to replicate a chapter with a sweet ending like that for all this fanfiction, but obviously, it's not working out._

 _ **Phoenixx Rising** : i'm flattered that you told me that! "Man, this is quite death he chose for himself." i know. i had to really find something so gruesome that it's not been written before. i've had other ideas, but this one seemed to work really well. him literally undoing himself._

 _ **HPfan1221:** thank you! :) i should've posted this yesterday but i was way too lazy._

 _: the horrible thing is that i do have this pre-written until up to Chapter 23. the problem is... i might change something in that Chapter 24 that requires me to go back to Chapter 19. this has happened before that i had to delete about 5 chapters and rewrite them completely. as for other stories, i wrote another story called Ares, one that completely went of the rails. it started off as a story about Percy as a child running away and ended up being involved in Greek mythology. don't worry. if i do kill him, i won't kill him now. i know... it sounds strange, but it's because i feel like if i kill him now, there's so much unresolved conflict with the family. i feel like i've written half a story!_

 _ **Sibirica** : don't worry. :) English is not my native language either. i totally understand. don't worry. they will realise their faults either way. ;) i've talked to so many people that want me to go through the comatose Percy route. but i totally got what you said!_

 _ **malfoyravenclaw555:** poor guys. i really didn't do them justice. _

_**finkles89** : i am loving this review. i feel like i'm partial to my own fanfiction so i can't tell if it's good or really good and stuff like this really makes me feel good. :) _

_finally, a Bill-centric chapter to explain the Bill-centric problems that have been happening in the last few chapters. next chapter is a George-centric chapter. but don't worry guys even if i choose to kill him, it's going to be later than this obviously. i feel like the fanfiction will be half done if not._

* * *

 **Love and Old Black Shoes**

Chapter Nineteen

* * *

Bill did not like to admit he was wrong. In fact, he did not remember the last time that he fully believed that he had to admit that he was wrong but this time… he was very, _VERY_ wrong.

He was sitting on the chair right next to a fully conscious George sipping a coffee. The bastard didn't even like coffee.

"Did you think that Percy held me down at wand point and forced a Puking Pastille on me?" George said in disgust.

Bill just swallowed the lump in his throat. He glanced at Ginny, who was clinging onto a silent Ron.

George just told him that Percy gave him a Puking Pastille after drinking thirteen phials of a potent sleeping draught that would've killed him without an immediate intervention. Percy legitimately saved George's life a few hours ago.

Bill knew that nobody could hate him as much as he hated himself right now, so he cleared his throat and said:

"I… I told Harry to tell Percy not to come to the wedding," Bill watched Ginny's face pale and then look at him in a mixture of shock and anger. "He showed up anyway, all dressed in fancy dress robes, and I took him back home."

 _"YOU… YOU DIDN'T!"_ Molly seemed appalled. And Charlie looked like he was about to kill him.

"I told him that George came to the wedding and that… that he couldn't be there," Bill swallowed the lump in his throat and met with Charlie's steely dark brown eyes. "I…I had wanted someone to know how painful it was when he didn't come to _my_ wedding. And I did it in the most selfish, unforgiveable way possible."

 _"WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU? ARE YOU SICK?"_ Charlie erupted. "You'd be bloody terminally ill, Bill if you think I'm going to accept a load of that rubbish! _I was in pain!_ _WE were all in bloody PAIN!_ Did you think we were dancing round daisies and throwing daffodils in the air every bloody week? Fred was _MY_ brother too!"

Charlie's hands were shaking. _"I FAILED HIM TOO, BILL!_ I failed him too!"

Bill closed his eyes and felt tears drip down his cheeks. "Not like me, Charlie. Not like me."

"What? Because you're the oldest, you carry all the blame?" Charlie shook his head. _"I DON'T BELIEVE YOU!"_

Bill bit down his lower lip. He went to bed every night with his chest burning and his heart aching.

"I don't want to hear this anymore," George didn't look so well again, and Charlie stayed silent. So did Bill.

Bill wasn't that much of an arse that he would deny the wishes of Fred's twin, the bloke that just nearly _killed himself_ only a few hours ago. George had spent ages telling him that he was scared, and he didn't want to do it again.

It scared Bill to know that if Percy hadn't done anything, they'd be _BURYING_ George tomorrow!

In the past few months, Bill had been in _SO_ much pain that he wanted everyone around him to be in pain too. Every day he woke up, he felt like his face was being torn apart again. At times, in his sleep, he could even remember the pain of his face being sliced in pieces. He looked like an Exploding Snap Card that was left to be eaten by a salivating crup! He was forced to stare into the mirror every day to try and face what he'd done (no pun intended mind you)! Bill was forced go around to work every day, knowing that he would never come home to a complete family again. And no amount of babies or amount of Fleur's sweet, docile tones could comfort that unsettling feeling in his chest that made him realise that he, who hadn't failed a single O.W.L, had failed in the most important thing in his life… _EVER_.

And how dare he walk around with no shame? How dare he project his failures onto someone else? Onto _PERCY?_

He just told one of his baby brothers—okay, they were _all_ baby brothers but still—that he had not wished to harm someone as much as he wanted to harm him. Not even _Fred's_ murderer. Even Lucius Malfoy had more class than that!

Bill knew why he said it. He genuinely just wanted to get some form of reaction from Percy. He wanted Percy to feel that _PAIN_ that he felt that kept him awake at night, wondering why he still existed when Fred was somewhere buried in a hole in the ground. He wanted everyone else to suffer along with him. He wanted to be held. He wanted to be _allowed_ to be scared. But how could he be allowed to be scared? He was having a _BABY!_ So instead, he just shouted at Percy like he was just this inanimate thing that had no emotion. And Percy just stood there! Staring vacantly at him! His bright blue eyes locked onto his, but Percy, Merlin bless his sweet soul, didn't say a thing to him. And now, Bill realised it was because he didn't want to tell him about what really happened before _GEORGE_ got a chance to!

 _Bill; your thinking is so twisted that you should see a healer for that before you get yourself in a real knot that you can't get yourself out of!_ Bill lamented. He was only creative when it came to butchering Poor Perfect Percy.

He didn't really have anything remarkable enough for himself anymore…. no matter!

He would just save it for the next time he worked hours and hours overtime because he was scared of what kind of monster he had become after he'd been attacked by Fenrir Greyback. Bill wished he could explain that- _that loss_ of rage and control that he had and how it just spun from this feeling of sadness that he had inside of him. _BUT HE WAS THE BIG BROTHER! HE HAD TO BE OKAY!_ If not him, then _WHO?_

But Merlin knew that he could barely keep himself together most times.

In fact, Bill just felt like this poorly constructed tower of stodgy profiteroles. Just when you thought that it all came together, you had pastry cream and chocolate all over your shoes and a giant, wet mess that took ages to clean up!

 _Bill, yes, Percy missed your wedding, but it makes no bloody sense that you would let him miss Ginny's so she could go through that pain just because you wanted someone to understand how much it hurt that Percy wasn't there. Because nobody really knows how much it hurt you._ Bill spent ages, wondering how he was going to deal with Percy after he didn't show up to his wedding. He didn't care that it was the middle of the war. He didn't care that they were attacked by Death Eaters and it wasn't safe. He didn't care about anything other than the fact that they could've died a year back, and Percy just… wasn't there! _Bill, you don't deserve Victoire. You are a monster that sleeps two hours a day, and spends most of his day at work because you don't want to deal with your own problems—and then you criticise PERCY about HIS work ethic! George hates Percy so much he literally has a fit whenever he hears his name, and still, he came to PERCY for help! Because he's the only responsible adult in the house that would've reacted fast enough to save his life! If George came to you, he would've DIED._

Just like Fred died, just like Fred died, just like Fred died…

Bill felt like the worst person in the whole world right now. He apparated away after a few quick _goodbye's_ to his family, and then went to buy Percy a box of custard creams.

When he was a child, Bill always had a habit of opening the biscuit tin every day before dinner time. He'd steal a dozen custard creams and Percy would chase after him, bloody angry he was eating biscuits before seven o'clock. But when he offered them to Percy, he always ate them. It was only years afterwards that Bill discovered that Percy hated them with a fiery passion but didn't like to say no when being offered biscuits because he rarely got any. Bill didn't understand how that was possible since it was usually full reign on the sweetie cupboard right after supper, but Percy was so _proper_ that he just waited until their mum offered him biscuits. And Molly didn't give Percy biscuits that often because he didn't bloody nag at her like the rest of them. So, Bill thought it would be put a little smile on Percy's face if he saw them… even though he was twenty-bloody-three and could buy any biscuits he wanted without Molly's permission. But Bill thought after a round of biscuits and tea, they could talk, and Bill could properly apologise to him now. He supposed he was only the first in line for a long overdue chat with Percy about what exactly was going on.

His parents had to give him a massive apology—along with hopefully a _MASSIVE ROAST_ to plump him back up!

Percy had been _seriously_ underweight for _MONTHS_ now. It was a bloody miracle he wasn't dead yet. If Fleur looked even half as thin as Percy, Bill would be seriously worried to death.

As Bill walked up the stairs, he could see Hermes running around in circles, looking particularly distressed. That was bloody strange! That owl was probably getting senile from the amount of blood sugar and fat that Percy fed him all the time. Bill pushed that thought aside, and put it under the category of _loopy owl having have been fed too bloody much banoffee pie_ … seriously, Percy practically fed that ruddy bird at least ten times a day. Bill's chest had started to hurt when he walked closer to Percy's room and he was hit by the stark scent of metallic _BLOOD_.

"Percy?" Bill whispered, and then he saw Hermes whizz towards the door and Bill's heart pounded. _"PERCY!"_

Hermes was slamming his body into the door. That owl wasn't senile... He was having a bloody mental breakdown!

Bill threw the bags of custard creams aside, and practically sprinted into Percy's room.

The second he walked in, he practically saw Percy lie in a literally _POOL_ of his blood. He was ghostly pale.

"What… what is this…?" Bill echoed into an empty room. He'd seen prettier sights at a butcher's!

Bill got on his knees immediately, and on autopilot started to search for a pulse. He calmed down for a second when he noticed that for some reason— _perhaps Merlin was listening to him pleading and decided to give him a second chance to correct everything he'd done wrong in his life_ but… Percy was still _breathing,_ and his heart was still _beating_.

"Oh, thank Merlin," Bill said, looking up into the sky with his heart pounding into his chest. "Thank you thank you thank you he doesn't deserve to die at this age… especially—especially not like _this_."

He didn't fathom _HOW_ this had happened, just that Percy was covered in _SO MUCH BLOOD_.

"Hey, hey," Bill placed his hand on Percy's face, which was getting paler. "Hey, hold on, hold on hold on hold on…"

Bill frantically took exactly one minute and thirty-five seconds wrapping button-downs around Percy's limbs, chest and abdomen to prevent him from losing any more blood. Bill grabbed one of Percy's arms and practically felt his heart jolt right out of his chest when he realised that some of that skin had completely melted off into his hands and he was just staring at pure white bone—or it would've been white if the bone hadn't been engorged in a cavity of watery blood. In fact, Bill hadn't really realised that Percy's skin was _LITERALLY SLOUGHING OFF BY THE SECOND. THAT_ was where all the _BLOOD WAS COMING FROM!_ Disgusting. Horrifying. Literally shocking. How did this—

"No, no, no, no, no, _NO!"_ Bill tried to place the skin that had peeled off back around Percy because he didn't want to lose that tissue. He didn't know how viable it was, or how much of Percy was actually viable now. Was all this skin and tissue and other gelatinous things? Were they still living enough that they could… _somehow_ … put it back on Percy?

A numb, horrified Bill tried to tighten the clothes even more to prevent him from losing any more blood.

He mechanically remembered the protocol they had for tending to a bleeding person at work and just did it.

"I don't know what the protocol is for someone's skin literally coming off. How the bloody hell did this… oh Perce… I don't know what to—" Bill frantically had a breakdown. He couldn't, at the same time, allow himself the luxury of even contemplating what was going on because of how badly Percy needed medical attention. He just knew that he'd die of the shock from losing so much blood faster than he'd die from all the germs that he was susceptible to now that he wasn't covered in his own barrier of protection!

"I'm going to take you to St Mungo's!" Bill called out. "Please… please try to _keep yourself together_ , Perce!"

He laughed vacantly and then started to sob.

When he tried to carry Percy, he could literally feel some more of that skin peeling off his back and into his hands. His hands were just touching hard bone that felt sore. How could bone feel sore? Bill's head was spinning. He had never in his whole entire life seen something so appalling and traumatising. If Bill felt like this, he didn't even want to envision what kind of agony Percy had to be in to have his skin literally slowly split apart like a badly constructed Bakewell tart.

Bill had no choice but to wrap Percy around in a few dozen blankets to make sure that Bill didn't accidentally lose some of… his skin or tissues. He felt like everything was pretty much there… sort of.

 _This was so wrong this was so wrong this was so wrong—_

He got to St Mungo's as fast as he could. He knew he was moving fast but time seemed so slow when literal parts of your brother was peeling off. Even the skin on his face becoming cracked, and red and bleeding…

 _"I WANT HELP!"_ Bill screamed the second that he got to St Mungo's. _"I NEED SOME BLOODY HELP!"_

"They all need bloody help! This is the emergency—" Penelope actually paled when she saw the bundle of Percy… with his amalgamated, gloopy limbs and now purulent discharge escaping from his swollen, bleeding eyes.

She immediately ran towards who looked like her senior and Bill just looked down at Percy.

He was going to sue the bloody hospital if they didn't get Percy help _NOW_. He needed help _NOW_. He was going to die _NOW_. Bill swore that every time Percy took a breath, Bill was terrified that it would be his last.

"Hey, hey, hey," Bill gripped his arms tightly around Percy, just to make sure that no more blood poured out of him, but there were definitely all this leaking green stuff coming out of his ears now. "Percy, stop. Percy… _STOP!"_

Only after did Bill place Percy in the treatment room— _what the hell was a treatment room?_ Bill didn't even know _what_ they were treating, but he knew that apparently, this place was so sterile that Bill had to spend about ten minutes scrubbing up, was put through a battery of cleaning charms, and wearing the correct protective robes. All he knew was that for some reason Percy was losing his bodily fluid and was shedding his skin faster than a basilisk—and had them directly transfuse blood into Percy from his own arm that he felt a little okay. His whole family had the exact same blood type and group. Obviously, Bill figured out that blood replenishing potions would take _too long_ to work... and he'd need a bloody _massive_ amount!

Fifteen minutes since he'd been put into the treatment room, Percy was not vitally stable.

They tried to put a tube through him to help him breathe, but he choked on it because of the amount of blood in his throat. They had to cut into his throat just to let him breathe. His wheezing had been slowing down.

The healers were talking, and nurses were there. Bill wasn't supposed to be there, he knew but they couldn't tear him out and they couldn't focus their attention on him as much as trying to make sure Percy didn't die in the next hour.

Bill forced himself to look at the damage when the healers tried to take away the button-down to try and stitch him up.

They had to bring healers from different areas because they didn't know how to fix Percy. They were literally making it up as they went along because they'd never been in this situation before.

"This is an old Cruciatus-inducing blood potion used to torture Death Eaters during the first wizarding war before Dementors were put in place… only lasted a week," one of the healers said and Bill's ears perked up. "This is the first known recorded case in Britain of someone that needed to be _treated_ from it."

Bill looked down at Percy's face. Yeah. He'd make a good fucking case report for one of them, so they _had_ to fix him.

"Who did this to you?" Bill whispered to Percy, leaning back and watching the healers go to work. He didn't understand who would target Percy like this. It wasn't the war. Everyone should be safe—

Suddenly, Bill remembered this that Arthur said that Percy was deliberately drinking this weird potion this morning.

"What… what colour is the potion?" Bill asked. "Is it green with… with crystal stuff on the bottom?"

The healer that was talking about the potion just moments ago looked at Bill with a confirmatory look.

"He drank a phial of it," Bill said in a dull voice. "A whole phial."

The potion-person healer looked horrified. "A whole phial? They only used _TWO DROPS_ to torture someone!"

What? Bill's head was spinning. He cleared his throat. So, Percy really did…?

"How are his organs?" another one asked.

"He signed a donor card yesterday—not apparently a coincidence. They're perfectly fine from the quick assessment we just did. Vasculature still intact… this is a lot of work for someone. This person that made this potion really tailored it to their needs," this time, the potion-person healer said. She was quickly weeding through this small little file that Bill presumed was Percy's. That looked right. "Sounds like this was a deliberate self-harm attempt with suicidal intent."

Bill's brain broke then. Because he didn't want to think that _Percy did this to himself._

"No, you couldn't have," Bill told a bleeding, shocked Percy. "No, no, no, you can't. You _can't!"_

He knew he wasn't helpful. He knew they had other lines of blood for Percy because of the frequency and the amount of blood that he had lost— _and was still losing_ , but he didn't want to just sit there with all this useless blood in his body doing nothing when he was staring at Percy literally bleeding out his whole bodily fluids in seconds. Apparently, enough tissue was viable because they were literally starting to stitch him back together with golden wires and wands as carefully as they could. Like… like he was a little doll that could be put back together with a few wires and wands.

Bill tried to wrap his head around the fact that the _only_ reason that Percy was still alive right now was because he purposely made sure this potion did not touch any of his vital organs because he wanted _other people_ to have them.

If Percy hadn't tailored his potion so much for himself, he would be this viscous pile of tissue and fluid now.

It really hurt Bill that they had to shave Percy's head off to make sure that he wasn't bleeding from there, and that the tissue hadn't been affected. He was always so small, but his hair gave him this liveliness and volume.

Without it, Bill felt like Percy looked even worse than a corpse.

Bill watched them operatively put Percy back together with wands and stitches. He kept bleeding. His vitals were all over the place. It might've taken _hours_ , but all Bill cared about was the fact that Percy was not dead. Because if he did not swallow his bloody pride in that second and come home, then Percy _would've_ been dead.

When he saw Penelope walk into the room about four hours later, Bill felt a little bit brighter.

"Hey," Penelope was standing beside him, looking at Percy. "Even if they do manage to help him out, we don't… we don't know what are the long-term risks or complications of taking this potion is."

Bill swallowed the lump in his throat. "Okay." He didn't want to think about the long-term _anything_.

To be honest, he was _SO_ shocked and horrified at the fact that Percy had been in this state that he hadn't had time to wonder what exactly happened that left him a sloppy, gloopy, _bloody_ mess in his own bedroom. To think that Percy had did this to himself was not an idea he could fathom. So now, all he could focus on was caring about the fact that Percy was okay. And Percy was _not_ okay. Not yet. Percy could literally die in seconds if Bill looked away from him and that terrified him. So, he just sat there staring vacantly at Percy, waiting until he looked less of this mass of melted flesh, blood and bone. And until that stupid off-white fluid kept on discharging from his eyes.

Penelope stood beside him and he looked down at the wires. They stopped taking blood from Bill a while ago, because apparently, he was getting too pale. But Bill didn't really think he got pale because of blood loss.

He just figured out that Percy had literally did this horrifying thing to himself! _INTENTIONALLY!_

Bill wanted answers, but he didn't really. He didn't want to _really_ know the answers.

It took approximately twelve hours for them to stabilise him long enough, but for Bill, it didn't feel like any time passed at all since he found Percy sat on _his childhood bed_ in a _pool of his own blood, fat and muscle_ (mostly blood, since Percy had neither of those last two in large quantities). Bill stared down at Percy's arms and all he could see were very violent-looking stitches overlapping his already mutilated, irritated-looking skin. Percy's skin was very red and oedematous, like he was retaining most of the water from the fluids that they were giving him. There were large blocks of dark red to nearly black lesions all over Percy's skin. His skin looked so parchment paper thin that he was practically translucent against the light. And there was still that disgusting white stuff gushing out of Percy's eyes. He didn't even want to know what that was, or the slight amount of frothy pink stuff that kept slipping out of Percy's lips.

Bill didn't feel very good knowing that when they were done cleaning him up, they were going to wheel Percy into the ICU of the Potion and Plant Poisonings floor. Bill knew that he should be there but all he could equate high intensity care with _was this person could die at any second._

When Bill left the room, he was surprised by the fact that his family was standing there, waiting. Bill had been so fixated on keeping Percy alive that he hadn't considered that _his family_ had to deal with this too. He felt very numb inside, and his hands had a slight tremor. Bill had only ever felt this bad when he was holding Fred's cold body into his hands. If Percy died because of this, he didn't think he would ever be okay again—not that he deserved to feel okay even if Percy did survive this. Ginny pulled him down to sit, and Bill realised after glancing at his reflection that it probably had something to do with the fact that he swollen, red eyes and looked like a walking corpse right about now.

He looked like a bloody dream compared to Percy. A real contender for Witch Weekly's magazine!

Ginny pulled up a little envelope and Bill tore the opened envelope.

 _Unsealed in this envelope is the funeral listings for the next few months (updated as of the 18th of April; a day before my death), a list of cheap coffins, tombstones and a grave site, the money to pay for these expenses, and my will, signed and officially stamped by the Ministry. I did not write a suicide note. I most definitely do not need a funeral service and would not mind it if I were to be buried in the front yard. I just do not think the gnomes will like it very much. I do not need flowers either. I am allergic to at least half a dozen of them anyway. Do not let Hermes see me often. He is too emotionally attached and will not be able to cope. Thank you._

Percy was nice enough to leave the part off where he wanted his organs to be donated to the hospital apparently. The hospital, however, were very well notified of the fact that they could have them if they wanted.

He placed the letter down and leaned back against the wall. That was why they were here. They _knew_.

Bill realised that his family probably came into his room, saw the blood bath, following this envelope ( _would not mind it if I were to be buried in the front yard!_ What in Merlin's name did Percy think he was? A crup? Bill wondered but then felt his heart ache when he realised that they'd been practically treating him like one otherwise), and the fact that Percy's owl was literally probably quickly descending into insanity. He was partially horrified that _ON TOP OF THAT_ they had to see practically dismantled Percy post being bound back together like one of Molly's Christmas sweaters.

The only saving grace for him was that nobody else had to carry Percy into his arms and out the door.

Bill stayed quiet when a female healer, the one talking about the potion, came and talked to them about Percy.

The healer told them about what kind of potion that he took. When she described the fact that Percy took a potion that was essentially used as a method of torturing Death Eaters and deciding to kill himself with it, Bill looked around to see how his family was reacting. The thing was they were just staring at her like she wasn't real and what she said wasn't true. Just when Bill thought it couldn't get any worse, she told them about how _LONG_ it took him to make it and that was when Bill thought that he might lose it. He just thought of how horrible that it looked like to find Percy like that, but to _KNOW_ that he'd wanted to do _THAT_ to himself for a _YEAR_ was beyond heart-breaking.

Bill was speechless. He placed his hand on a very silent George's arm. George immediately wrapped his arms around Bill, burying his head into Bill's shoulder and violently sobbing.

Nobody said anything. What could they say? This reminded Bill too much of Fred being dead.

When the healer left, Bill cleared his throat. He saw the doors open. George stopped crying enough to look up and see. They hadn't even begun digesting the information and suddenly, they were wheeling out a near comatose-looking Percy away from the treatment room. Bill wanted them to get out of there as fast as possible, but they just left Percy in the bed and were reviewing his file information together. The healers were mentioning the orders they wanted for Percy and how they had to check each stitch they made every few hours.

Bill wanted to cover his mum's eyes. He wanted to cover _his_ eyes and pretend that it wasn't real.

"Mum," Bill looked over at his mother, who was standing there, pale as day, shaking. Bill flicked his eyes back at Percy. It was hard to believe that just this morning, he was fine. And now, he was literally just random-looking body parts pasted together. Like they'd unearthed him just a few hours and thought he looked better cemented together before they took him to the museum, like an ugly broken vase instead of a _PERSON_.

Bill was a little relieved though noticing they'd bandaged Percy. There wasn't a part of him that wasn't wrapped up.

"Mum," he placed his hands on her shoulders, and then felt his stomach squirm when he realised that his hands were still covered in _PERCY'S BLOOD_. He'd really forgotten he had to carry him here. He looked down at his robes and really felt like he might vomit realising how much of Percy's blood was on him. And that disgusting sticky white stuff.

The whole family didn't say a word. In fact, Bill was sure that he was the only one that could say anything—and really, he didn't feel like saying anything at all. He just felt like screaming in the fucking abyss.

They went down to intensive care. He had to scrub up. He had to be clean. He had to wear protective robes. He had to make sure that he did not have extracts of plants and there was a huge sign mentioning how Herbologists were not allowed. Just certain scents of some plants had been told to make someone worse than they were.

Bill placed a hand on a withdrawal looking Charlie's shoulder, and then squeezed it.

Charlie's face crumbled when Bill did that, and he looked like he was trying to cry.

The room in the unit was dreary, and awful. Looking at the clock, Bill had realised that he hadn't slept for a whole day, hadn't eaten the whole day, and even though his body felt broken and defeated, he was very much awake.

He had always thought it was night, but actually, it was nearly noon.

Bill walked down to Percy's bed. They'd been working on him for the last twelve hours. He was wrapped in bandages from head to know, but his vitals were semi-stable. Bill's eyes were fixated on Percy's face – his cheek was half-black from all the blood that had pooled in there, and the skin looked rough and scaly. His lips looked dry and cracked. He had a giant golden-coloured suture from his eyebrow down to his jawline, probably because this was his face started to break away. The suture was reinforced with a long bandage. His eyes were still swollen-looking, and there were still so much discharge coming out of his eyes and ears. His head was shaven, obviously, and the absent hair really made Bill feel unsettled. Even though that should be the least discerning part.

Molly told the nurse to put a few disinfection charms on her shawl and wore very sterile gloves. She slowly pulled up the bedsheet around Percy and then placed the sterilised shawl on top of a shaking, trembling Percy.

Penelope came by, holding a sunny-coloured potion in her hands.

"This potion could force him to wake up from his sleep. It is entirely up to you," Penelope said, tipping the yellow contents into another bag to put it as an IV for him. "But I… I would rather not have this done. It's inhumane. I can't imagine how much pain he's going to be in—and he's on maximum dose pain potions right about now!"

This was her practically screaming out _don't make me wake him up!_ But Bill _wanted_ Percy to be awake. The more sleep he got, the more Bill felt like Percy could die in a heartbeat—and they wouldn't have heard a word out of him before!

Just as Penelope was imply that he shouldn't, Bill heard a loud sound at the closed hospital door and a strangled cry.

"What in Merlin's name was that?" Penelope didn't look like she wanted to open the door to see.

Bill cleared his throat. "I will go check on—"

He paused when the doors opened, and Hermes flew right in, covered in the same awful robes that Bill and his family had to wear in the treatment room and in this intensive care unit room. Bill had never seen an owl in a _gown_ before.

Hermes let out several strangled cries and laid beside Percy.

Penelope shook her head. "We don't allow pets in intensive—" The minute that Penelope tried to take Hermes out, the owl started to make even more noise and looked like he wanted to kill her. "I'll call animal control later."

She then looked back up at Bill. "Nobody has ever lived through taking that potion before—not ever. This is the first documented case. I don't know what kind of damage I would do if I were to force him to wake up—"

" _You_ don't understand," Bill begged. "I'm fucking terrified he'd die if you don't wake him up right now."

Ginny didn't look so happy about his decision. "Wake him up and have him be in intractable pain just so you could tell him that you saved his life… when he obviously didn't want you to do that in the first place?"

Bill flinched but Ginny continued, "I don't… I don't know what to say to him if he wakes up right now..."

Charlie was vacantly staring at Percy, George clinging onto him like they weren't both giants.

"If he wakes up screaming, he's going to be pulling apart his stitches," Charlie reasoned and then flinched. Bill could imagine Charlie hated that he sounded like he could take emotional part out of this when he couldn't. "Right?"

Penelope cleared her throat. "No, _these_ stitches you can't really pull apart. They dissolve with time as he heals."

"How…?" Arthur tried not to directly look at Percy. "How much pain is he going to…?"

She looked so nervous. "Enough to _really_ hurt him," she whispered. "There are multiple reports of people being put on the Cruciatus curse that have literally been in so much prolonged torture that their body stops feeling pain and temperature afterwards and Percy drank a _PHIAL_ of a potion that could be explained as the concentrated equivalent of that spell! The _only_ reason he's still alive is because he manipulated that potion to make his organs viable for transplant!" when Penelope said that, Charlie went about a hundred times paler.

Bill didn't like hearing or thinking about that. He hated the thought that Percy could be dead right now. He hated the thought that Percy could legitimately die any _minute_ now, like he was on this thinnest thread of livelihood.

 _"WAKE HIM UP!"_ Bill yelled. "He could _DIE_ any minute now. _I_ don't want that chance."

Penelope looked around at everyone else, who seemed to be in the same broomstick as Bill. She didn't understand how badly they _needed_ Percy to wake up. He didn't understand how she could just sit there and talk about his pain, like they couldn't give him anymore pain potions. _Bollocks_. Bill would go as far as to give him the potions that Charlie was abusing if it meant that he got to talk to him for a few more days. Bill was _terrified_ that a few more days was all he had left with him. He didn't want Percy to die thinking that everyone that he loved really hated him. Bill knew even way before that they were going through a rough patch, but everything was going to be okay. He had no idea that for a year, Percy had been planning his own violent suicidal schematic!

"You're selfish," Penelope spat out. She pulled the IV line up and then connected him to it.

Bill didn't know what he felt. He was a mixture of both relief and terror. "I know."

In less than five minutes, Percy was starting to stir, and his eyes were starting to open. Bill wished he could take back what he said because when Percy opened his eyes, they were so red and there was more of that pink and thick, crusty fluid seeping out of his eyes and it _looked_ absolutely excruciating… especially when he blinked.

Molly's facial expression changed from worried to even more worried, relieved and horrified. "Percy."

She reached to his face and then tried to cup his cheek as softly as she could.

Percy didn't say anything for about three seconds because he was busy hyperventilating and wheezing as his eyes spun round the room. Then he bit his lip so hard that he drew blood, and then he screamed so hard that he forgot to breathe. Then even though he was on enough rejuvenating potion to even make You-Know-Who rise back from his grave, Percy still managed to lose consciousness again.


	20. Chapter 20

_i am absolutely shattered. the only way i was going to update this was if i didn't do any comment replies. i totally appreciate your comments, guys though! it's what makes me want to update this fanfiction!_

 _this chapter mentions what was happening with George (since he was with the rest of the Weasley's), finding the letter, etc. and then mentions where we'd last cut off. so you're going to have a mini-recap in George's point of view (with a lighter beginning to the chapter with him in the hospital)... i just didn't know how else to write it so bear with me! and the next one is Arthur's point of view. i'm purposefully avoiding a Percy POV so that i could get some of the other POV's. i'm so sorry, i'm so tired i didn't know who asked me this, but about a Ginny or Ron chapter... it will be absolutely out of character for me as i can barely write them in a few sentences here and there! i'd love to, i just don't want to completely butcher the characters so i only write POV's that i know i can sort of make believable or realistic enough (at least i hope that that's what i'm getting at anyway!)_

* * *

 **Love and Black Shoes**

Chapter Twenty

* * *

George had been discharged only a few hours after he was admitted because he stopped upchucking Pixie Puffs all over the wall. But hey, at least the _other_ stuff that he ate came up easy! Though George doubted his mum slaved over the stove that morning just for her porridge oats to end up decorating the hospital floor… and wall… and his robes.

Oh, and the nurse's robes… and the table… and he bet there was some on Charlie's shoes! _It drastically improved them!_

Yes, he _only_ ate a whole bowl of Pixie Puffs and a sad bowl of porridge oats with a sliced banana in it that morning! His stomach had been acting up, so he skipped the fried toast that he usually had with this. But seriously! The only time he ate something healthy for breakfast, and he got sick! What a load of augurey bollocks!

What good was eating bananas if they didn't counteract the effects of thirteen measly little sleeping draught phials?

When it came to times like these, George tried not to think of the fact that Percy sometimes went _DAYS_ without eating and made it look like it was _normal!_ George felt like the only being in the universe that could go days without eating was the ghoul they had in the attic—and even _he_ liked to help himself to a flobberworm every now and then!

By the third shade of yellow he had expelled from his stomach, George had stopped feeling the urge to vomit!

But then Ron, _Merlin kill him in his sleep through suffocation,_ started to talk about how much he _liked_ sleeping with Hermione and George felt his nausea come back tenfold. George wanted to thoroughly mention that those two events were entirely related—he believed the peak of his nausea was when Ron started to mention to Harry the type of _lingerie_ that Hermione wore. George's gag reflex was stimulated for _at least_ five minutes after trying to imagine Hermione sexily standing by the bed with her horrible attempts to seduce him how much she _liked big books_. Hermione was the sort of bird that you somehow imagined taking a shower in _full_ _robes!_ The only time George could think of her interested in anything sexual was if it a long report about the reproductive lifestyle of common Herbology plants!

Not to mention, George felt like if he tried to go down on Hermione, he'd end up in the Forbidden Frizzy Forest!

So, after that traumatising incident, they were off their merry way with the intention of going home!

Well, they _were_ going home but George insisted to stop for a Chinese because he hadn't had enough breakfast and he had just emptied his stomach of its contents. He was practically running on empty—if not on a deficient because he lost bodily fluids. So, he ate a massive fat Chinese takeaway and then received a fortune cookie that told him that _someone that he loved was in a perilous situation right now!_

At _first_ , George thought that the cookie was talking about Charlie's serious post-potion abuse constipation issue but then he concluded it was obviously related to Puddlemere United's most recent game! Every time those trollops played nowadays, George had to pretend that he actually paid people back in bets and that his team's losing streak was going to end by next game. If they got any worse, they'd make the _Chudley Canons_ look like they knew which end of the broom they should shove up their arses this year when they lost to the most pathetic teams in the league— _again_.

Then they tried to go home, but George had a mental breakdown about how much he hated himself because he was alive, and Fred wasn't. Nothing shocking. In fact, the breakdown lasted less than twenty minutes. All was well after!

And then, after _that_ , they came home. George was getting ready to go upstairs to his room to ignore everyone when he heard his mum screeching like poor Errol did when he was about to slam into the window for the fifth time that week. George immediately ran back downstairs, and he realised… that his mother stubbed her toe on the table. Ouch!

The worst thing was when he left, he stubbed his own toe on the table! _The blasted fortune cookie was right after all!_

After that, George decided to go see if Percy was in his room because he wanted to talk to him about how much of an arsehole he'd been the past few weeks and that he totally didn't mean it when he implied that he was a gigantic prat in the last… well, twenty years! And George was sorry for that time that when he and Fred were about five and they told Percy that his freckles were really dragon pox and Percy ended up crying for a week because he thought that he was going to die? Their mum bit their head off for that one! But—

 _Blimey_ , George's thought process broke when he noticed the fact that Percy's owl made Errol look sane! He snorted and inched closer to Percy's door. That fat arse probably ate too many party rings!

"Hey, Perce," he opened the door, 'forgetting' to knock. "We're back from…"

The second that George walked into Percy's room, he felt the whole world suddenly stop.

All he could focus on was the fact that the whole room was _COVERED IN BLOOD_.

George knew it had to be _PERCY'S_ blood! Who else's blood would it have been if _not_ Percy? Suddenly, all George could think about was every wrong thing that he'd _ever_ told Percy. George's thoughts were racing faster than a snitch, faster than George had time to process them! He suddenly felt very warm and very cold at the same time…

 _WHERE_ the hell was he? _How in Merlin's name did he lose this much blood and LIVE?_

 _Was he alive?_ George's mind was going down that route. But it shouldn't go down that route! Percy was fine a few hour ago! What happen? Did he apparate away to Diagon Alley for a coffee and forget half his blood volume at home!

But Percy had to be… well, Percy _HAD_ to be alright because… because…

 _HE JUST HAD TO BE! PERCY SAVED HIS LIFE! HE CAN'T DIE! HE CAN'T EVER DIE! HE WAS… TOO PERFECT!_

Hermes suddenly tried to shove this envelope into George's face.

 _"WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT?!"_ George blew up towards Hermes, who dropped the letter and flew away.

George kneeled to the floor and tore the envelope. "Stupid bloody owl... I want to burn you, you stupid animal!"

He just skimmed through the giant wall of text. His mind only zeroing in on the words of words like _funeral_ and _bury me in the backyard_. And the _DATE_. This was dated _YESTERDAY!_ His mind felt numb and frozen, like he couldn't understand words. George felt hot tears start to run down his hot cheeks.

George ran to the bathroom, his eyes searing. _"PERCY!"_ his hands were shaking.

Why in Merlin's name Percy would be in the bathroom? Or the shed? Or the kitchen where he never was because he was suffering from a state of chronic malnutrition? _Or the bloody front yard where he wanted them to bury him at?_

He ran around the house, running in circles because his head was running in more circles than an intoxicated Chaser.

George stopped in front of the Weasley family clock, panting heavily after spending the last five minutes wasting his time. His hands were shaking even more because George remembered that his father took away Percy's handle because of him! Because _HE_ kept on having fits about how much he hated Percy and how much he…

 _I don't hate you I don't hate you I don't hate you… Percy if you die I'll never ever not ever forgive you!_

George shook his head violently, sobbing uncontrollably. " _WHERE IS PERCY'S HANDLE?! WHERE IS IT?!"_

Molly poked her head from the kitchen. What the bloody hell was she doing in the fucking kitchen all the time—

 _"WHERE IS HIS HANDLE?! WHERE WHERE WHERE WHERE?"_ George's words were muddling together.

He was holding tightly onto the clock, like it was just going to tell him that everything was okay, and that he was imaging things. And that Percy didn't lose half his blood volume and plan his… _suicide! SUICIDE!_

Arthur came downstairs, holding Percy's rusty clock handle into his hands. "What are you—?"

George grabbed the handle and forcibly shoved it back into the clock, who seemed to seize under George's sudden violent tendencies. _"TAKE IT, YOU STUPID CLOCK! TELL ME WHERE PERCY IS… NOW!"_

Only a few seconds afterwards did the handle point towards _HOSPITAL_. George felt like throwing up again.

And what was _BILL DOING IN THE HOSPITAL WITH HIM?_ Wait, Bill pardoned himself for being a giant git and came back home to talk to Percy about the fact that he purposely made him miss Ginny's wedding—which she was holding this princess-like grudge about! _BILL_ must've seen… what made Percy lose all that blood…

"George," Arthur inched closer and placed a hand on George's shoulder.

Percy was with Arthur for at least half the day. And he didn't feel comfortable enough to tell him that he was planning on somehow mutilating himself to the point where there was somehow blood on the _ceiling_ of _his room_.

 _"IF PERCY DIES, THIS IS YOUR FAULT! IT'S YOUR FAULT!"_ George suddenly shouted at his father.

Arthur placed his hands on George's shoulders. "Calm down, G—" Arthur paused. "What's wrong with Percy?"

George couldn't say anything, but Arthur was shaking George now by his shoulders. "What's wrong with my son?"

"Oh, now, he's your son!" George sounded out. "Now that he's in trouble, he's suddenly your son!"

His father went so red he matched that miniscule tuft of hair he had on his face.

"Did… he do anything…" George choked out in a tired voice, "…anything weird today? Something unlike himself?"

 _"NO!"_ Arthur shook his head. "I took him to see Audrey. He wasn't happy about that. And he didn't want to eat any of Honeyduke's Happy Holidays Honeycomb that I bought for him, even though he loves it! I thought that it was probably because it was not a holiday and Percy was proper about these things… doesn't eat Christmas pudding at any time of the year other than Christmas! Well, that may be because Molly's Christmas pudding is a poor representation of any pudding I've ever tasted. In fact, I think my stomach is still digesting the one I've had last Christmas _but_ —"

Arthur cut himself off. "Well, he was drinking something this morning and I hadn't the daftest what it was! Looks like a botchy-coloured Strengthening Solution with bits of Cheeri-Owls on the bottom!"

Strengthening Solution! He bet the colour was miles off because his father failed Potions in school.

But that had to be it! George rationalised. Percy's…. death-inducing potion! That he took, in the _MORNING?_

This and the letter just confirmed to George that Percy had spent the _whole_ day, with this thought in his head that he wanted to die but he didn't feel like he could tell anyone.

"It isn't a bloody _STRENTHENING SOLUTION!"_ George shoved the letter to his father's chest, his hands still shaking. He shook his head in disbelief, trying to process the fact that on the same day that George had accidentally overdosed on a phial, Percy had intentionally taken something that was meant to kill him _HOURS_ before George came to him.

George felt lightheaded, like Fred had whacked him with his Beater's bat!

Arthur read the letter and he was so pale he made the Bloody Baron look lively and full of energy. "Oh."

His father cleared his throat, and placed a hand on George's shoulder. "Sit down," he instructed softly. "I'll call your mum, your sister and your brothers and we can go see Percy in the hospital, alright?"

"Bill is with him," George sounded out. He didn't know why this bit of information was _so_ important for him to say!

 _I should be there! NOT Bill!_ was all that George could think about. He didn't want to wait for his family to come with.

George's hands were trembling. He wanted to say that he hated Percy for doing this, but really, he just hated himself for not noticing that this was happening right in front of his eyes. _This_ was why Percy kept mentioning his death and his tombstones and what kind of ghost he'd be after he'd passed away! Then he remembered that Percy was preparing for his O.W.L's at his first year, so of course, he'd had his mind set on this for ages. It made George sick to think about it, because he remembered how scary it was that he wanted to die. He didn't feel like himself. Percy had this planned for ages, so he must have felt like that _all the time_. And that scared George because he couldn't handle it for more than a few minutes without just wanting to rip out his hair and choke on his own vomit.

He heard plates break and sobbing entailing afterwards. George hugged his knees to his chest. His mum knew now!

He always knew that deep down, that Percy purposely tried to burn himself! How come George was the only one that bloody picked up on that anyway? It wasn't like Percy was particularly subtle about anything. He got paler by the day and every time he bought new robes that fit him, they'd hang off him the next week! George wasn't even sure how Percy got so skinny so fast in the first place. And he just kept on looking worse every week. What were they waiting for anyway? For him to die because his body started eating his heart muscle from how skinny he was?

George stayed silent. Minutes felt like hours, and hours felt like seconds.

There was a lot of screaming and crying involved in the kitchen. This time, not just mum's voice, but also Ginny, Charlie and Ron, who two hours ago had agreed to stay home to make sure that George didn't off himself tonight.

After another hour of screaming and shouting, they ended up in St Mungo's.

All that George heard was that Percy and Bill were in _the treatment room_ (which George low-key knew was used for emergency surgical procedures using wands, vacuums and wires… he wasn't sure where he knew this bit of information from but like it bloody mattered. He knew Hermione told him that muggles called it an _operating theatre_ ).

They waited outside, and watched healers and nurse frantically running around.

George and the rest of his family sat outside the treatment room. The whole world felt like it stopped. Charlie got everyone coffee, and sat down beside George. He offered him one, and George took it just to have something hot to drink to steady his nerves. He just didn't feel like he was there anymore, but he wasn't thinking of anything. He felt like he'd eaten a packet of Ice Mice and it all went to his brain because he was shaking, and his mind was cold.

They waited there for a while.

George felt like he had every crack memorised and had made up his mind about what shade of death covered the walls. He noticed his mum's hair looked almost neat—like she hadn't had an altercation with a Whomping Willow. His father had his hand on his robes. George didn't realise how old they both looked like until today—the wrinkling in their hands, and the sadness in their faces. George didn't know how it must be like to lose your child before you died.

He didn't know how it was like to know that two of your children tried to kill themselves both in the same day.

He glanced over at Ginny, who suddenly looked about six. She was placing her hand on Ron, who was mumbling angry things that George knew meant nothing because they were both terrified. Except Ginny was okay with showing off how terrified he was and Ron tried to turn that terror into anger, but his mask seemed so fake that even sad little George could see right through it. George glanced to Charlie, who was sat beside him looking vacantly at the wall like George had been doing for a while now. He hadn't had a sip of the coffee that he bought for them. Charlie didn't look scared as much as he looked heartbroken. But ever so often, there was this sudden lapse of fear.

They probably reread his suicide note so many times that it was imprinted in their brains.

As George grasped the fact that Percy had not only killed himself but was in the treatment room for five hours because of the way that he killed himself, he wondered if Percy was actually going to be alright afterwards.

He didn't know what had actually happened that made Percy lose _so much blood_. His mind hadn't even begun to fathom what Percy had taken. And up until seven hours later, when Bill walked out of the room, robe absolutely covered in Percy's blood and other white, slimy bits that George also assumed was a part of Percy that he realised how bad the situation was. His heart was suddenly racing, and he looked up at Bill with those shining, horrified eyes.

Before Bill could say a word, a dark-haired healer walked towards them and told him about the potion that Percy had taken. He didn't remember the specifics after he heard the words _torture-inducing potion that mimicked the Cruciatus curse in a concentrated form, only need two drops for an effect_ when George knew he drank a whole phial and _took a year to brew_.

He kept shaking his head in disbelief.

 _A YEAR. PERCY HAD BEEN THINKING ABOUT THIS FOR A YEAR! A YEAR AND HE HADN'T BLOODY CHANGED HIS MIND ABOUT IT!_ George trying to contemplate feeling the way he felt like today, when he took the potions and tried to think about feeling that way for a year and his mind just couldn't do it.

Then after that, all he could think about was all the terrible things he'd said to Percy this year. From the moment that he came into the house and he said that he wanted Fred dead, down to the last few months where he kept on mentioning how he tricked Fred and that he didn't care about anyone other than himself. The months that he'd spent burning all of Percy's Christmas sweaters and chucking his handle off the clock. George was sure that he intentionally destroyed at least 95% of Percy's wardrobes, his things and his books in the last few months, screaming and shouting about how Percy cared about his things more than he cared about this family.

If George hadn't felt awful by then, he felt about a million times worse when they took Percy out of the treatment room and he was covered in bandages. He didn't look like a human being. He just looked like things stitched together to look like a human being. They'd shaved off his hair and took off his glasses! If it wasn't for the fact that he was the only six-foot-two bloke in the world that weighed less than seven stone, George wouldn't have even considered that that stretchy lump of skin and bone was, twenty-four hours ago, _HIS BROTHER_.

He felt like his brain wasn't digesting any of this. One minute Percy was fine, the next he was being transferred to the intensive care on the third floor because they needed to keep a close eye on him!

George couldn't bear to look at his family. He could hear crying and weeping but he just stayed silent and numb.

Oh, and the debate that they had about waking up Percy was a joke! George didn't know what in Merlin's name he would say to Percy if he woke up, if Percy woke up not screaming bloody murder! He looked like his battered stuffed crumple-horned snorkack _and they wanted to wake him up?_ What for?

When Bill mentioned the fact that Percy could die any minute, George was on the fence.

He didn't want to think about the fact that Percy could die at any minute, but he also didn't want to think he'd forced Percy to wake up and be in bone-crushing _PAIN_ just because he couldn't stand the thought of him having a kip!

If Percy could somehow withstand the pain, he would be bloody tired anyway! They'd _want_ him to sleep!

George was just about to sound out his concerns when Percy's ex-girlfriend, that terrible Penelope sort, just shoved the IV into Percy and he opened his eyes. He knew that it was a mistake the second he did!

Just seeing all those fluids seep from his eyes was a nightmare on his own. His eyes made their Gryffindor red look _white_. They looked so sore and swollen! Went well with his sore and swollen-looking body. Even whilst retaining what looked like multiple gallons of water, Percy's hospital robes looked were hanging off him in a near comical manner. George wore the same gown just a few hours ago and he tore it with his biceps. No, he was not overexaggerating.

This happened to him a _LOT_. Even the protective robes he was wearing now felt snug!

Of course, even though Penelope and his family were debating on waking him up, somehow, the subject of the fact would a potion that could practically bring someone from the dead might _not_ be enough to wake Percy up did not come up. Mostly because George had never been in a situation like this before.

It was getting tiring and George knew he couldn't stay here forever. He wanted to, but he was so exhausted from the events of the last twenty-four hours alone that he felt like he needed to sleep for a week.

George wore some protective gloves, and sterilised himself another time with cleaning potions before he tried to change Percy's position and give him more pillows. He had literally screaming so hard that he screwed up where his IV lines were, and Percy's lips were still bleeding from how hard he bit down on them.

By about seven in the evening, they were back home.

He, Ginny and Ron spent the night trying to clean Percy's room because there was blood _everywhere_.

It took them three hours to _just_ get his bed clean because a lot of the blood had already dried up. Ginny and Ron helped him move his thing back to where they always were in the past fifteen years and George tried to pretend like these things weren't _Percy's_ things. Ginny had a breakdown when she found Percy had tucked the box of the things she gave him under his bed… next to his box of personal achievements.

"I told him I didn't want anything to do with him anymore," Ginny was clinging onto the box for dear life.

Ron looked away from Ginny. "Well, _I_ told the git that I wished that he'd died instead of Fred." He looked over at George, who was busy staring at Percy's drawer and staring at his collection of imported quills.

Ron crouched down at the bed, and had tears running down his cheeks. It didn't look right to see Ron _crying_.

"Did he say _something?"_ Ron suddenly asked, and George hated that question. Like Percy was already gone. Percy was _alive_ , but it just didn't feel that way when looking at corpse slash badly constructed blanket Percy. "Before?"

George didn't like doing any of this cleaning stuff. His room was a seriously horrific mess, so it didn't make any sense that he was now cleaning _Percy's_.

"He said a _lot_ of things, Ron," replied George, remembering all the death jokes.

Ron just looked down at the ground. "Alright," but George knew that Ron had a lot more questions.

Ginny looked up from the box, face stained with tears. George had been crying so much he didn't think he could cry anymore if he wanted to. His head was pounding, and his face felt wet and sticky.

"I just keep thinking to myself that I don't know what could go on in someone's head that's _SO_ bad that they decide that the only way that they could cope with it is to do… to do… what Percy did to himself," Ginny didn't get it.

"Yeah, I know," Ron responded, but he didn't add anything to it. "Hey, if… if he wakes up, what are you gonna say?"

George swallowed the lump in his throat. He went to Percy's closet. It was usually colour-coded but now, it was a mess and there wasn't a single robe in there that was Percy's. _Because I burned all his sodding things!_ George thought.

 _"I'm sorry I made you want to torture yourself to death…?"_ Ron was echoing George's thoughts. "What a bloody joke!"

Ginny picked up one of the dolls that Percy bought her when he was about seven. It cost three knuts.

George pulled the clothes down into a pile and tried to code them by rainbow colours. He paused when he noticed that there was an envelope on top of a heap of clothes. He tore it and then started to read.

 _Dear Mr Percival Ignatius Weasley, I have confirmed your deposit in the… blah blah blah… official bank titles and boring procedures that George always pretend didn't exist and a deposit of… whoa, that was a lot of money! Enough to start back his joke shop…_ George skimmed through the letter and then felt the blood drain out of his face.

It _WAS_ to start back his joke shop! George was apparently supposed to receive a confirmatory letter soon?

And all the money that Fred gave him was now George's? George shook his head in disbelief. This was a nightmare!

"The sodding bastard… _FRED_ gave him that money!" George yelled out and forgot for a second that Ginny and Ron were in the room. Apparently, they'd been rooting through Ginny's box, and had been reminiscing stories about him.

Again, reminiscing stories about a person? People typically did when a person _DIED_. Percy was _ALIVEALIVELAIVE_.

Ginny and Ron tried to talk to him about it, but he wouldn't have any of it.

Truth be told, George just wanted to go to sleep and wake up and find Percy in his bedroom, with his nose buried into a book. He wanted Percy to fit into his pants instead of them falling down to his knees because of how bloody skinny he was. George wanted to wake up tomorrow, and find Fred sleeping next to him, snoring louder than a banshee immune to laughing potions. George wanted to wake up tomorrow and find Lee bouncing into their room energetically, telling them about all the latest stuff—which did not equate to _gossip_. They were _RESEARCHING!_

As George thought about this, he went to bed and then he cried himself to sleep. And when he woke up, he was alone.

A few days later, George found himself visiting Percy for the first time in a while.

He had been too scared to see Percy and opted for staying at home instead. He'd been thinking about him all the time though. George felt like he could sort of face him today, even though he hadn't yet figured out what he wanted to say.

He didn't think he'd ever _really_ find out what he wanted to say.

George thought it would be nice to get him giant, colourful flowers. He had to get them sterilised of course.

It was so early when George left the house that even his parents were asleep.

He knew that his family told him that Percy hadn't woken up yet. George had opened a _BOOK_ for the first time in forever. He'd been trying to find if there was an antidote for Percy's potion! His room was strewn with books. George hadn't found an antidote yet, but maybe there was _something_ he could give Percy that would take all his pain away. That would stitch him back together like he was. It was this little glimmer of hope that kept him going.

He walked into the room and placed the flowers on Percy's shiny table.

 _"OH!_ I was hoping to see someone soon! _"_ one of the nurses was there. "Your other family membranes hadn't really come yet today, but I just wanted to say that Percy woke up naturally today. I got him to drink something, but he fell right back asleep. He's asleep because he _wants_ to be asleep and _not_ because he's comatose! We didn't even have to give him his daily cycle of rejuvenating potions! Isn't that wonderful?"

"Yeah," George was staring at Percy's chest move.

He knew he was going to Azkaban for even considering waking him up, but George _had_ to. He was so scared that his family were going to come around and he wouldn't get to say nothing.

George then shook Percy awake, smiling weakly. He felt so bad for doing this. Percy must be _bloody exhausted_.

"Hey," George was shaking him as gently as he could. "Percy…? Perce?"

Percy opened his eyes. They still looked as bad as ever. Red, and swollen, and like he was in pain. He instantly regretting waking him up and wished he could take back those three seconds where he was shaking him.

George was scared that Percy would scream himself unconscious, but he looked pleasantly surprised to see George.

Percy looked dead tired. He rubbed his eyes and gooey, pale-coloured fluid just escaped from his sore-looking eyes. "I'm sorry. I was under the assumption I was alone," Percy's voice was very low and scratchy. George heard his owl whining when Percy said that he was alone. "Well, not _technically_ alone. Sorry, Hermes."

George's heart jumped out of his chest when Percy slowly pulled himself so that he was sat upright.

Percy looked _extremely_ lethargic—like _I just played five months of straight Quidditch without a single pause or break like the Ballycastle Bats did in 1954_ type of exhausted. Percy rubbed his eyes to try and pretend that he wasn't falling asleep in front of George's very eyes! Except _George's_ eyes weren't covered in disgusting, painful-looking yellow muck!

"Pardon me," Percy said in a slurred, scratchy voice. "I feel like I've been run over by the Knight Bus."

Even as Percy said that, his eyes looked glossy and red. George closed his eyes. He was an awful person for waking the sodding bastard up. George didn't look like he was run over by the Knight Bus. He looked like he'd been run over by the Knight Bus for a little warm-up before getting thrown into a pit of a hundred blood-thirsty dragons before he decided to have an orgy with Dementors. The worst part was Percy _CHOSE_ to do it!

George leaned forward. "Perce, what…?" his voice was soft.

Percy raised an eyebrow. He picked the flowers that George put on the table. "Hmm?"

"What…" George noticed Percy picking off the petals. _"What happened?"_

Percy looked away from George's face. He looked… well, honestly, George didn't know what kind of emotion Percy had on his face, but it made this tight knot form into George's stomach and he felt like throwing up.

This was not exactly the _bonding_ experience that he envisioned when he came here!

The look that Percy had on his face almost made George yearn for Perfect Plastic Percy that less facial expressions than most Hogwarts' portraits. Because it made George realise he didn't know how to decipher any of Percy's _genuine_ facial expressions. Like when he was sad, or happy… _or scared_. George wondered if Percy was afraid of anything.

"Well… _um_ …" Percy didn't look like he knew how to answer that question. "What happened is…well…"

Percy swallowed a lump in his throat and looked at Hermes like his gigantic owl was going to answer that question for him. George wondered if Percy told that stupid owl that he wished he was dead but didn't tell anyone else.

"That's a very good question," Percy decided. He looked nervous. George had never actually seen Percy have so many ranges of emotions all in one go. It was _unnerving_. "Unfortunately, I do not know the… _well_ —"

"Hey… hey," George placed his hand on Percy's arm. "It's okay, Perce… it's okay."

It felt so strange saying those words to _PERCY_ , and Percy didn't look like he knew how to receive them.

Percy slowly nodded his head. "Alright," he said in a whisper. "Thank you, George… I really want to apologise for putting you in this situation, but I do not particularly know what to say," he didn't sound convinced.

George didn't get what Percy was saying. Was he feeling _regretful_ that he killed himself? Or just that George was 'stuck with him'? Like Percy was only sorry about the fact that now, his whole family's activities surrounded around him?

"You could've just told me," George swallowed the lump in his throat.

Percy didn't say anything, but his bloody owl didn't like that statement. That didn't sound good.

A moment of silence passed, and George tried to say something because he just wanted Percy to say _anything_.

"You could've told Ginny, or Mum or Dad or Bill or Charlie or hell, you could've even told _RON_ that you were feeling like…" George's voice was wavering, "… like _THIS!_ Instead of not only killing yourself but bloody well torturing yourself to oblivion! Blimey! _I WOULDN'T DO THIS TO THE BLOKE THAT KILLED FRED!"_

"Neither would I," Percy replied. George felt like he'd just slammed into a giant brick wall.

George's lips were trembling and there were tears burning into his eyes. "You could've told _someone_."

Percy shook his head at George's statement and George was getting unnerved.

"No," Percy's voice was soft. "I _couldn't_ have."

 _"YES, YOU COULLD'VE!"_ George yelled back at him, already feeling a few tears dribble down his cheeks.

"George, I do not mean you any harm and I love you dearly. But no, I could not have just told _someone_ something as delicate as this," Percy sounded like he was trying to restrain something. George wondered what he _really_ wanted to say. "Pardon me, George, but _WHEN_ , in the past year, did you exactly want me to tell you that I was suicidal?"

"Anytime!" George shouted. "I wouldn't bloody mind if you woke me up from my bloody sleep to tell me that…"

Percy looked down at his knees and then shifted so that he was sat cross-legged. Hermes flew out of the room.

"Honestly, Perce! You literally came with this-this _idea_ of… of torturing yourself like this? _What the HELL were you thinking…?_ " George was mortified at what he'd even seen in the past week or so. It felt like a bloody never-ending nightmare… with emphasis on the _bloody_ aspect. _"YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE THE SMART ONE!"_

Percy cleared his throat. "I had this eerie feeling that if I told someone, I'd be told that I have about as much emotion as a horklump, and then I would probably be yelled at for worrying that person. That would be the _best_ -case scenario."

"You're kidding!" George was gawking at Percy. "How could you think _THAT_ way! We're your bloody family!"

Percy stared at George very seriously. The look that Percy gave him could probably make Inferi crawl back into their graves. Percy suddenly slammed his fists into his thighs. "You are making this _very_ hard for me to stay calm."

George didn't get why Percy had to be so bloody _PROPER_ all the time. George let his emotions be known all the time!

He heard the door open and his family walked inside. They were surprised to see Percy was awake but couldn't say a word, because George just _EXPLODED_ right then. He needed to make sense of this situation.

" _WHAT ARE YOU TRYING NOT TO SAY TO ME?_ What is _SO_ bad that you've been practically dodging the question ever since I got here?" George asked. "So bad that… that you didn't want to write in your _suicide note?_ "

His family was stunned. Percy was turning whiter than the cot that he was sat at.

 _"WHAT IS IT?!"_ George knew that this wasn't kind. It was immoral. It was cold. He _WOKE_ Percy up for this!

Percy clenched his hands into fists. "I'm bloody sick and tired of attempting to be _NICE TO YOU_ when your emotions towards me changes on a weekly basis!" he suddenly spat out and George's heart stopped at the second he said that.

"I'm sick of people saying horrible things to me, and then pretending that it's fine because they've apologised to me. I'm bloody sick of people being unhappy and then putting it on _ME!_ I'm sick of people trying to say cruel things to me to try and get a rise out of me and then being _shocked_ when I'm upset. But suddenly… _suddenly!_ When I leave the bloody room that I've been living in and announcing my departure after spending months practically living in solitary, _I'M SO MISSED!_ Get bloody real! I bet you couldn't think of a memory that involves me that doesn't have my face stuck in a book! I bet _FRED'S LIFE_ on the fact that you couldn't answer the most rudimentary questions about me if you bloody well tried and I'm supposed to believe that I'm supposed to _TELL THE VERY PEOPLE THAT MADE ME WANT TO BLOODY DIE—NO, MADE ME WANT TO TORTURE MYSELF FOR A YEAR—THAT I WANT TO DIE?"_

Percy shook his head vehemently. "Mind you, I'm not bloody sick enough to put that on a note that might be the _last thing_ you might've ever read from me. I'm not that much of a bloody git, even though _you_ seem to think otherwise. I'm not sure why I'm so horrible and unlovable but I assure you I have _some_ semblance of standards."

George suddenly felt bad about intentionally prodding Percy. He _had_ been trying to get a rise out of him. He knew how inhuman it was just to wake up a bloke that was so bloody tired as Percy and he still did it! And then demanded an explanation for his suicide! He _forcefully_ woke Percy up after knowing that he'd tortured himself enough to require half a day in the treatment room! George felt so ashamed of it… and he was supposed to be the _nice_ twin!

"I'm sorry, Perce," George said weakly. He remembered Percy just yelling about the fact that he hated how people apologised to him and pretend that everything was okay. _I don't mean it like that, Perce. I listened!_ George thought. _Please_.

"It's quite alright," Percy said… as if it didn't matter that he just had this gigantic meltdown a few seconds ago.


	21. Chapter 21

_**review replies:**_

 _ **imagine forevermore**_

 _ **HPfan1221** : thank you, love! :) i hope you enjoy this one too! _

_**Kirlial** : i am most definitely portraying them too harshly... honestly, it's one of the biggest reasons i didn't kill Percy during this mini suicide plotline because i want there to be a bridging and understanding phase between them! of course, it won't be smooth, but their intentions are very good and pure. i'm hoping that with these character centric chapters and some more chapters, i can add dimension to this. i wanted originally to do the fanfiction with more character splits, but it's been mostly Percy and George centric thus far. it's just sometimes... the characters' thoughts just don't translate so well into a chapter for me! i'm really trying to help expand. because the idea is they're not bad. they just have really bad communication issues plus poor coping mechanisms (which Arthur will touch on here a little.) _

_**finkles89** : keep your hopes as low as possible. i'm trying to find a way to attempt to finish this fic off without death, but it's unlikely at this point. _

_**malfoyravenclaw555** : :) i am too! though at the same time not... harder to write. *shameless smile*_

 _ **Phoenixx Rising** : "I wish the conversation hadn't cut off where it did because I would've liked to read more of it, I'll get over it." don't worry! it continues onto this chapter! _

_**pupjasmine** : i think this the soonest i've ever updated this fanfiction._

 _honestly, i've been trying to intentionally avoid a Percy-centric chapter... so here is an Arthur-centric chapter, followed by an Audrey-based chapter. well... at least you aren't wondering what the secondary characters are thinking! right?_

* * *

 **Love and Old Black Shoes**

Chapter Twenty-One

* * *

Arthur Weasley felt like he'd been under the Cruciatus curse for the past few weeks.

One of his sons tried to overdose on potent sleeping potions. Another one of his sons attempted to purposely to torture himself to death and had been pushed so far as to admit to everyone that _his family_ were the ones that had pushed him into a point where not only did he want to die, but he wanted to do it in an unspeakably violent manner.

Arthur cleared his throat and sat close to Percy, staring at his son and realising just how _little_ of him he recognised.

Percy rubbed his temples. "I… I truly apologise for that… that unnecessary outburst," he said, and the worst part of it was he did actually sound like he hated the fact that he said any of those things. "It was unacceptable."

Arthur was sure Percy deliberately tried to suck the emotion out of any situation he was in.

Just when Arthur didn't think that it could get worse, he saw Percy wiping his eyes. _Like he was trying to stop himself from crying!_ And Arthur didn't even want to contemplate the fact that Percy _could_ cry.

It was truly enough to make Arthur wish a Dementor would suck his soul and be done with it.

George was so stunned that he turned silent. Arthur wasn't sure what they were talking about before this came to light.

Ron was on the side of Percy's bed, staring at him with an expression he'd never seen on Ron… but he hoped he'd never see it again. Bill was looking down at the floor like he was about to be sent for an Azkaban trial. Charlie had Ginny pressing her head against his shoulder, her face was red, and already sticky from tears. Molly was clinging onto Arthur and he wasn't even _aware_ of his wife's presence anymore. Very few things did that to Arthur.

"Please say something," Percy's voice was wavering slightly. "This is excruciating for me."

This was excruciating for him? Not the fact that his eyes looked like they hurt every time he blinked, or the fact that he had so many bandages Arthur thoroughly believed that Percy would be in pain regardless of what position he was in?

Ginny let out a sob instead and just shrugged her shoulders. What did he want them to say? What did he _need_ to hear?

Charlie, who was probably sent from Merlin's heavenly round table itself, just leaned down to Percy's eye-level—which was rare for him to do since Charlie was short compared to Percy.

"You're right," Charlie said very slowly and softly. "It _IS_ unacceptable… what _WE_ did to you."

Percy shook his head. He didn't look like he wanted to admit the fact that he was right for once.

"No, no, _NO_ , _YOU_ do not understand!" Percy looked so… _all over the place_. It wasn't like Percy. " _I_ was out of line!"

Arthur rubbed circles around his wife's back. Molly was just vacantly shaking her head, speechless.

Ron moved closer to Percy's bed. "Perce, I told you that _you_ should've died instead of _Fred_ and _YOUR_ conclusion is that _you're_ the one out of line? Why? Because _YOU_ told me that I keep saying bollocks like that because I'm pissed at the fact that Fred is dead, and I took it out on _YOU_ by telling you something I shouldn't ever tell anyone I actually bloody care about? By the way, you're spot on. I wanted to be angry at you because you _seemed_ to be doing alright."

"Yeah, he lost half his body weight overnight, but he _seemed_ to be doing alright," George sarcastically mumbled.

Arthur felt like he'd swallowed a mouthful of Molly's Christmas pudding and it just wouldn't go down. Bill nodded his head, but his words were obviously stuck in his throat too. Percy kept on shaking his head in disbelief.

"Come on, Perce, you _can't_ be that far gone," George said in a soft voice. "You _CAN'T_ be."

Percy _was_ far gone if he felt guilty about being driven to his absolute breaking point.

"I'm not 'far gone.' I'm fine," Percy curled up in his blanket. "I just… should _not_ have indirectly installed the guilt of a lifetime in my own bloody parents by accusing them of-of… _well, the things I've accused them off!_ Highly unjustified!"

Highly unjustified? His child was lying in the hospital bed after trying to torture himself to death! It _was_ justified!

"Percy, you tried to kill yourself by _TORTURE!_ Did you expect that when Molly and I heard the wonderful news that my child had died, _WE_ wouldn't feel guilty about it?" Arthur asked seriously. He was… scared of how Percy thought.

Percy refused to make eye contact. "Yes."

"Percy, I—" Arthur was immediately cut off by Percy.

"If there was a cell in my body that thought for a second that my death would make anyone suffer, I assure you that I wouldn't have even considered it," Percy spat out faster than he could process… and then he turned a chalkier pale.

Silence hung in the room, and Arthur didn't know what to say to the fact that his child practically told him that he genuinely thought that they'd be better off without him. Not for a second, not for a day, but for a _FULL YEAR_ , he genuinely believed that if he was dead, _everything_ would magically be better. Like it would _resurrect_ Fred from the dead.

"Come on, Perce," George said in a weak voice. "Please tell me you didn't actually mean that."

Percy returned to shaking his head in disbelief, blinking repeatedly and wiping his eyes.

"Come on, Perce," Bill sounded out Arthur's thoughts. "Seriously?" his voice was soft.

Percy started chuckling before he nodded his head. It sounded so unnatural. Tears immediately just slipped down his cheeks. It got worse because Percy let out these tiny little sobs too. He was quick to grab a tissue box and rub his eyes to the point where milky-coloured discharge was running down his cheeks along with his tears. It looked _SO_ painful.

"I'm sorry," Percy apologised again, his voice soft. "I'm so sorry… I… I obviously did not think this through."

George laughed. It sounded empty. "Perce, you overthink _everything_."

Percy ran his hands through his… well, he realised he didn't have any hair and he laughed again because he seemed to have forgotten that. It was vacant and empty, like George's laugh was. "I suppose I do."

Arthur wondered how everything was _fine_ just a week ago.

"I'm sorry. I didn't… I didn't realise," Percy rubbed more tears out of his eyes.

Arthur thought to leave Percy alone to rest up because of how tired he looked. The family followed suit, with a quiet George standing to the corner with an even more quiet Bill having a conversation in whispers.

For the next few _WEEKS_ , whenever they came to visit Percy, he seemed to be either asleep or had been taken out for a walk by one of the nurses. And the rare moments where he was awake—or in their case, _George_ had woken him up in a gentle manner—he was so tired that he was inattentive to anything that was going around him!

This was, of course, at the beginning very concerning. Now, it was the fifth week and it was _just frustrating!_

"How are you, Percy?" was typically answered with a vague answer because Percy did not answer any question directly. He said things like _I suppose I'm alright_ and _I don't feel like today has been particularly eventful._

After the first encounter that they had with Percy, they hadn't so much as heard a sentence from him! About _anything!_

"Do you need anything?"

"No, I do not particularly need anything," Percy would say, propped up against pillows, looking uncomfortable and having blood seep out of his bodily orifices as he drank his third cup of tea that day.

"Are you sure you're alright?"

"Yes, I feel better than I have in a while now. Thank you," Percy would reply again, usually after a consistent magical heart rate monitor that had been put on him because he went into a cardiac arrest two hours ago.

"Do you want a coffee? Do you want something to eat?"

"No, thank you. I've had lunch," Percy would say, and Arthur couldn't actually blame him for that one. The nurses here fed him an _insane_ amount! And he was used to Molly shoving giant Sunday roasts swimming in gravy! Thus far, Percy never finished whatever was on his plate, but it was such a shocking amount that even attempting to eat _half_ the mountain seemed sufficient enough for anyone looking to _put on_ a few stones!

"Do you need to rest up? Is your sleep been an issue these days?"

"No, I'm perfectly alright," would be Percy's response to all of those, usually when half-asleep against his pillow.

Even though the nurses told Arthur multiple times that Percy was not doing well. He barely slept. They said that he was in pain so much that he cried every day for hours a day, begging them to please end it. Arthur found it so hard to see that when he looked at emotionless Percy that didn't show an ounce of vulnerability anymore after the meltdown he had with George. Arthur knew that there were days where Percy refused to let anyone see him, and the nurses told him that they had to sedate Percy a few times because he was in so much pain that he ended up accidentally biting his lips or digging his fingers into his skin enough to break some of his wires open.

Arthur found that so hard to believe too, looking at calm Percy placing his hand under his cheek and rolling his eyes whenever anyone made a stereotypical comment about how he looked like he was bored out of his mind.

It did not take long for the focus of their conversations to dwindle away from Percy.

At first, it started out as mindless chatter when Percy was asleep and they were waiting for him to wake up.

They somehow got onto the subject of how Ginny was getting on in her Quidditch practices, and then it snowballed from then on. Then they started talking about things like how Kingsley was changing the Ministry, what new shops had opened up, the revenue that Madam Malkin's was making after the new advertisement they had on the paper! How ghastly the copy of the Daily Prophet was yesterday and Arthur going on hour-long rants about it even!

" _Children_ even read it!" Arthur remembered telling Bill, who was nodding his head. "That rubbish! Toxic to the brain it is! And did you see the advertisement they put on _page sixteen?_ Those people don't have a bloody limit!"

"I think they're only allowed a limit of forty pages," Charlie said, not quite getting it.

How did he get so many O.W.L's again? Considering things seemed to flow past his head! (Pun completely intended).

But it was alright at the time. Because Percy was _asleep_.

Unfortunately, it started to seep into talks like this when Percy was awake. In fact, most recently they visited him on a Tuesday morning and beyond them asking how he was (most times they asked the _nurses_ more than they asked Percy!), they started to talk about the 1986 Quidditch World Cup results and the new cards they were adding in the newer chocolate frog editions! How Ron and Harry were in them!

One of the nurses then came out to shout at them ten minutes ago, reminding them that this a _critical care unit_.

"Oi, I think we should be saving some for Victoire," Ron told Harry, showing off his shiny card. Arthur knew he bought at least ten chocolate frogs in the last few days trying to get as many cards of himself as possible. "I—"

"Pardon," Percy cut into a conversation for the first time since… well, since he'd woken up. "Did anyone ever feel the need to tell me the fact that _Fleur gave birth to Victoire?_ I… Mind you that I am not very up to date on such things. But apparently, I know more than I would ever need to know about how my most favourite team apparently cheated their way to… well, victory." That Victoire slash victory _pun_ was unintended. Because it was _Percy_.

"Merlin, she'd given birth ages ago!" Ron was not helping. "Didn't you know?"

Percy just glared at him. He was so irritated. "Well, considering I've been stuck in _critical care_ …no. I did not know."

"Didn't you say something?" Ron turned to Bill, who just raised an eyebrow.

"I could've sworn I'd said something," Bill admitted. Arthur had not been cautious with his protective robes as he had been when he first walked into the critical care unit. "I hadn't? Because I could've sworn I—"

"Merlin, just forget it," Percy said, sounding extremely annoyed. He didn't say anything after that, but it left Arthur very unsettled because he'd realised what he'd been _doing_ the past couple of weeks!

He hated the thought of it but… he'd gotten used to Percy being in the hospital. It became _normal_.

Because Percy didn't complain about the massive amount of pain he was in. It became so normal because Percy seemed the same as he always was… except he didn't _look_ the same as he always did!

Arthur stared at Percy, wondering again when and how did he get used to the fact that Percy was so ill. He dared to say he got used to the fact that his son had seeping fluid out of his eyes regularly still—and it had been weeks, and it had been getting _worse_. He dared to say that he, yet again, not only got used to how many stitches Percy had, but he had gotten used to the mutilated patches of skin that Percy had _everywhere_.

He was not impressed with himself. Arthur did not know when the bone-crushing guilt had disappeared!

He hadn't done anything to warrant it! But Percy was sat there, silent and emotionless, barely reminding them of the fact that he had tried to kill himself in this incredibly violent manner and here Arthur was… having the gall to admit to himself that he no longer found it alarming the fact that his child was literally tortured to near death by himself!

And it took all of _FIVE BLOODY WEEKS!_ Not five months, not five years… _five weeks_.

When Arthur realised this, he was really appalled at himself. Here was his child, his child that felt so unloved and unappreciated and invisible… having to spend the last two weeks listening to them talk about a newspaper right after he'd nearly butchered himself to death! The worst thing was Percy didn't even tell them that he found this disturbing. He just observed with eyes that were so red that it looked made a Chinese Fireball look white.

So, the following day, Arthur thought to come visit Percy during his lunch break. He'd bought his work container along with him and packed something for Percy to have so that they could have a nice chat.

The second he wanted to walk into the room, the nurse told him to get out.

Arthur found this strange, but he waited outside until he had another nurse come up to him.

"If I have another week of you and your family like last week was, then I am going to ban visiting privileges for you and your family around my patient anymore!" the way she said it made him feel bad, because it didn't make him feel like he was Percy's father for Merlin's sake but a stranger! "I keep on telling you he is not sleeping well. His eyes are not doing very well. And I do not like the fact that your sons have this habit of waking him up only a few hours after he fell asleep because they can't wait for him to wake up by himself! It is _SO CRUEL!_ And you bloody wonder why he tried to torture himself to death if _this_ is how you treat him after!"

Arthur flinched, but it was… well-deserved. "Is he asleep?" he asked very slowly.

The nurse shook his head and then gestured for him to walk into the room.

Arthur was used to seeing Percy sat on the bed, with his face as emotionless as ever like it was when they visited him every morning and night. But instead, he found Percy sat at the corner, head buried in his knees as his body shook.

Arthur knelt beside Percy, and then placed his arms around Percy, who just grabbed to hold onto him immediately.

In fact, Percy was holding onto Arthur's arm _so tightly_ that he thought that Percy was going to break it off!

Percy was not affectionate by any means, but also, Percy did not typically bite down on his lip so much that he started to bleed either. His eyes twitched, and he was trying to rub anything that was seeping out of them.

Arthur did not know what possessed him to do this, but he grabbed a tissue with his free hand and tried to rub the discharge from Percy's eyes instead of Percy vigorously trying to rub it away from his hands.

Some of the pale discharge covered Arthur's fingers. And… it was _hot_.

Not warm. It was _HOT_. It was like he'd accidentally spilled a drop of boiling water onto his finger! Merlin!

Percy pushed his hand away and then shifted so that he had his head pressed up against the corner. He looked to have calm down in seconds, but Arthur was wondering what was going through his mind.

Arthur left the room momentarily and then came back in about ten minutes with a bag of no-melt ice.

He offered it to Percy, who with shaky hands, pressed the ice against the side of his face. His other hand was gripping onto his knee as hard as he could, enough that his knuckles were turning white.

Arthur got up to leave the room again to make Percy something to drink.

He made him a strong cup of tea with enough sugar in there to cause a diabetic imminent death. He had ginger and cardamom in it, and then put enough milk in there to make George's friend, Lee Jordan, sick for a week.

Arthur came back to the room and saw Percy still sat there. He'd shifted the ice to the other side. His eyes were no longer a shocking red but dimmed down to a shocking pink that would make the Quiberon Quafflepunchers jealous.

Percy took the tea that Arthur offered him. He took a sip of it, and then looked pleasantly surprised.

They sat there on the ground for a while. Arthur was particularly alert about everything that Percy was doing. He drank the tea, didn't say a word and after his eyes started to look less pink and more like… well, his eyes (Arthur almost forgot that they were _blue!)_ that he just climbed into his bed, put the ice aside and just fell asleep.

Arthur sat down besides Percy. He saw that Percy had a bunch of books in the corner and went to pick them up.

All children's books! Arthur knew that Percy practically read every children's tale in the wizarding world. He was probably the only person that liked _The Toadstool Tales_. The only book ever to cause intractable vomiting in every other child that read it. Percy read that book even more than he most children read the _Tales of Beedle the Bard_ , which Percy still probably had memorised. Arthur flipped through the pages, which were practically so worn-down the writing was illegible. No wonder Percy needed glasses to read it!

Arthur spent time reading the stories. He hadn't read them himself since he was a child.

When his family came around, Arthur almost immediately jumped to his feet before Bill's mindless chatter would wake Percy up from his sleep. Arthur instructed them to stay quiet, but he knew why they wanted to talk.

The silence was unbearable. The silence made them _think_ about things.

Like the fact that Percy looked bloody exhausted. The fact that his skin still looked awful, even though it was better, and the nurse had a regimen to try and cure him of his self-inflicted scars. Apparently, scars via harming yourself were extremely likely to heal. Scars via a werewolf attack? Not ever likely. Like the fact that they just wanted this nightmare to end, and them going home with a Percy that actually _looked_ like Percy.

Just because Percy had been putting on weight and healing rapidly didn't seem to change that empty feeling inside that Arthur was trying to bury under a senseless amount of chatter.

If they were busy talking about the Daily Prophet or the Quidditch Cup, it made them forget _where_ they were.

Arthur knew that the nurses knew that they weren't bad people. They just had the _worst_ coping methods possible.

Sitting there in silence whilst lamenting over all the things they'd done wrong was not one of their frequent ones. They'd rather shove it down with endless amounts of alcohol, sit in bed depressed all day, or yell at each other trying to make each other feel guilty because they couldn't contain their own guilt. Arthur knew that even though he wasn't going to a pub and drinking away his sorrows did not mean that he was _coping well_.

In a mere fifteen minutes of silence, Arthur could see that _fear_ resurfacing again. That fear that they'd been trying to shove down and normalise underneath useless conversations and pitiful jokes.

It was like they were sobering up to a reality that they didn't want to particularly face.

When Percy woke up that evening after being asleep for close to eight hours, his eyes were _BLUE_. Not pink, not red. There was a little amount of clear discharge coming out of them. But they were _BLUE_.

"Hey," Arthur said, watching Percy pull the duvet up over himself. "Do you want us to go?"

Percy looked still groggy and tired. He just nodded his head very mutely.

Arthur walked out of the room with the rest of his family. Molly didn't leave without pulling out a new blanket that she made for him. The other ones were too thin, and the most recent one was too heavy. She had applied a sterilising charm, and gave him a few kisses, telling him to get better soon.

"There's some tea here for you," Arthur pointed towards the flask that he had made for him an hour ago. He needed to get up and he was tired of all the sitting he'd been doing and his brain was melting with how awful the writing was on that _Toadstool Tales!_ Merlin! How did Percy _read_ that?

Percy, again, looked pleasantly surprised. "Thank you," he said, his voice slurred and scratchy still.

Arthur did not know how this happened, but even though he hadn't had a conversation with Percy, he was beginning to understand what he might need. So, the following day, he came by late at night instead of during his lunch break. He did his paperwork in front of Percy, who seemed very interested in what Arthur was writing.

Percy laid on his side whilst Arthur worked meticulously on the table. What surprised Arthur was that Percy knew more about his department than Arthur did. He kept on correcting official titles and reminding him that certain people would not like the way that Arthur phrased his statements.

Arthur found himself reading what he was writing out loud and found Percy's facial expressions comical.

He then moved on to another report about Regina Davies' report to Magical Accidents and Catastrophes that involved The Office for the Detection and Confiscation of Counterfeit Defensive Spells and Protective Objects. Percy's facial expressions completely changed then. He seemed to be sat there, contemplating _something_.

Arthur continued to read and fill out the report, but he noticed the drastic change in Percy's expression.

"And thus, I declare that…" Arthur paused, noticing that Percy wasn't listening anymore. "Is something wrong?"

"Oh, it's nothing," Percy was an awful liar. And everything was fine in his life, except for that time that he was so depressed that he decided to kill himself via a seriously torturous method. But he was fine after!

"Really?" Arthur didn't hide his distaste at Percy's statement. "Nothing's wrong?"

Percy curled up into his blanket. "Her son and I were close friends. Unfortunately, he died in the war due to a very unlikely accident caused by a defect in an invisibility cloak he confiscated from a Slytherin."

Arthur did not know how to react to that. He didn't expect that. "Oh… I didn't know."

"He, unfortunately, had this terrible habit of getting me intoxicated whenever there was a cause for celebration. Mind you, he was a Ravenclaw so his causes for celebrations usually involved Potions essays that were longer than six feet and periods of no restrictions when he tried to borrow books from the Hogwarts library," Percy explained.

Arthur seriously didn't know how Percy _didn't_ end up in Ravenclaw.

Percy was smiling weakly. "After we had the fight, Roger, I and a couple of my other mates got so hammered I think I actually ended up being late for my first day at work. Fortunately, the Minister called in sick!"

Arthur tried to imagine a drunk Percy racing to work. It… wasn't particularly possible.

"I do not drink as much as anyone in this family, but apparently, when I do, I do have a lot of stories to tell," Percy commented, rolling his eyes as he said this. "My mates… unfortunately… they… they… they _all_ passed away."

Arthur frowned. "I didn't know, Percy."

"I didn't either—not until most recently," Percy mumbled in irritation. "I was so consumed with Fred's death and how everyone else was coping with it that I had no time to entertain notions as my sudden lack of social life or my job or much else. And mind you, people dared to tell me that _I_ didn't care for Fred's death!"

 _I_ _dared to tell you that you didn't care for Fred's death_ , Arthur thought to himself. "I'm sorry, Percival."

Percy offered a weak, faltering smile. "The… the tea that you made me is very nice. I enjoyed it very much."

"It was the _only_ way you used to drink it as an ill child," Arthur didn't think that Percy would've forgotten that. "And I thought that you had a near perfect memory, Percival… you disappoint me!" he said with a real smile.

Perfect Prefect Percy crossed his arms over his chest. "That is unfair. I believe you cannot use that when all my childhood illnesses involved an inability to smell Fred and George's socks or taste mum's Christmas pudding!"

Arthur thought Percy had to be _very_ lucky to not be able to taste Molly's Christmas pudding!

"I remember you quite _liked_ it when you got sick," Arthur told Percy, still smiling. It felt good to talk to Percy like this. "You didn't have to take a bath for three days if you could convince your mother you'd been sleeping all that time."

Percy flushed. "Out of all things I want you to remember about me, my reluctance to bathe was not be one of them!"

Arthur wanted to ask Percy more about what he felt like after Fred passed away, but he didn't particularly feel like Percy wanted to answer any of them. In fact, just now, Percy just grabbed one of Arthur's quills, picked up one of his reports, and started writing comments on the side of the paper whilst underlining a few words— _err_ … _sentences_ actually.

Percy curled the quill in his hand, and his hands started to shake a little. He looked so _scared!_ Percy… _scared!_ But when Arthur tried to ask him about it, Percy's face turned blank and he told Arthur had a very fatal spelling mistake.


	22. Chapter 22

_**comment replies:**_

 _ **FawleySlytherine555** : thank you! i thought i was overdoing it with the perspective change, but i think it gives a chance for another character to tell you how they're feeling. oh, and Percy's my favourite character, though strangely enough, George is the second. but if it was Bill, it'll be funner... mostly because i live in a Middle Eastern country and he was in Egypt. which i've been to before several times (even had a flat there) and i do have a few Egyptian friends... takes time to get used to them speaking though! and i'm in Gryffindor (done the quiz loads of times and keep on getting Gryffindor). though i do wish it was another house! _

_**finkles89** : a sweeter chapter! thank God! i think that even in the darker chapters to come, there will be more sweet moments now that the cat's out of the bag with Percy. _

_**HPfan1221** : i do wish i can fix the out-of-character-ness to be honest! i am trying my best, but yes, they are more violent and outspoken than the actual Weasley bunch... i'm trying to play it off like it's just war and the loss of a person but it's not working out so well! _

_**Grin like the Cheshire Cat** : i love Arthur. he's so sweet. i like writing him too!_

 _ **imagine forevermore** : Fabian! oh my God, i'm so glad you mentioned that because i think it's mentioned in the next chapter! probably the most important clue i put in the flashbacks. i think Percy's mindset is probably the most confusing to write. because he's always been a rock and a hard place. he wants people to notice him, but doesn't. he wants help, but doesn't accept it, etc. Percy's main problem is that he doesn't want to convince himself that people care about him, because if he recognises that fact, he'd feel guilty about trying to kill himself for feeling like nobody cares about him. but he keeps flipping through that and wanting people to notice, and i think that's his major problem. _

_**irene2005** : i think it's because he was mostly shocked at the mood! or thinks that he doesn't want to give too much, etc. there's a lot of things going on in Percy's mind which is why i'm going to do a Percy POV after this Audrey POV chapter (this one of course)!_

 _ **Phoenixx Rising:** i'm so glad you like Arthur in this fanfiction. i don't know why, but he's usually the first one that tends to act terribly in fanfictions for me, so this is a plus... as i've been trying hard to make him a sweetheart (not unlike he is in the books, poor Arthur)._

 _ **Guest** : well, i didn't think this fanfic would take this turn but weird things happen in fanfiction land! i hope you're enjoying the story. :)_

 _you know, writing Audrey in such a serious fanfiction is always fun and strange. she has this very... romantic comedy style about her that i've adopted in this fanfiction!_

* * *

 **Love and Old Black Shoes**

Chapter Twenty-Two

* * *

"Is… is this okay you think?" Audrey said. She was wearing a very large white coat with pretty, giant black polka dots all over, a short black dress, a pair of black tights and bright red heels to go with her bright red lipstick and accessories.

They were currently walking from St Mungo's cafeteria— _their latte tasted like stale coffee water_ —and up to level three.

Arthur was eying her excessive amount of jewellery and makeup. "Well… _um_ …."

Audrey was flushing deeply, holding a smoothie-filled protein shaker. "Do you think that Percy would mind that I tried to look up smoothie recipes for people that are emaciated? I mean, he _is_ but… I just wanted a lot of nourishing ingredients in there. I looked it up on my computer, but all I saw were _green smoothies!_ Nourishing my asymmetrical bottom… _SO_ I made him a smoothie with a tin of melted toffee, condensed milk and bananas in it!"

She then pointed towards her shaker and grinned mischievously. "There has more calories in here than a full Christmas roast dinner with all the trimmings _AND_ the sticky toffee pudding after!"

"No!" Molly said in shock. "Wait… what _are_ calories?"

Audrey opened her mouth to try and explain it. "They're _things_ in food that makes you not fit into your size 10 jeans."

"Oh," Ginny nodded her head as if she understood exactly what Audrey said. "Size 10?"

Audrey flushed. Ginny and her size 6 bottom and tight abs probably didn't know what a size 10 _was_.

"It would've been an 8 if I spend more time tarting myself up and going out with Roger instead of well… _eating_ tarts," Audrey explained, and she just flushed. It would take a while for Audrey later to know that sizing in the wizarding words did not go by numbers. "Oh! I have a pair of pants that are too small and long for me. They do not sparkle… _much_ but I think they have a stuck-up look to them too... I'm going to donate them to Percy on our first day of living together—graduating from almost flatmates to _real_ flatmates—after he gets discharged from the hospital for."

"I think Percy would be alright with that," George nodded very seriously. "As long as they don't sparkle… _much_."

As they got closer to Percy's hospital room, Audrey felt the Indian that she'd had last night stir in her belly.

She was very worried now. "Don't you think it'll be better if he lives with you? It's not that _I_ don't want him in my flat. I _want_ him as my flatmate. I'm sure that-that he'd _love_ using all the jasmine oil he ever could, but…"

Audrey placed her hands into the pocket of her coat, looking more than just a little nervous.

"I don't _know_ how to comfort someone that tried to kill themselves by _literal torture_."

She looked around to see that everyone probably had the same feelings as her.

"You have a better chance of getting through to that stubborn head of his, love," Molly told Audrey, her voice sweeter than honey. "He isn't listening to us. We've been to him so many times. We've tried to get him to open up, but he just won't let us know what's bothering him and I'm terrified that he'll be the same if we take him back to the Burrow…"

"Yeah, I understand but…" Audrey didn't know how to do this. She was _terrified_ of having to do this. "Okay."

At least he could have full reign on her sweetie cupboard. "And you lot are going to visit every day? So that when I'm in my university, there's still someone there staying with him and making sure that-that he's… _he's okay?"_

She received confirmatory nods from all directions. Audrey breathed in deeply and sighed in relief.

Audrey wasn't sure if Percy was okay now. Killing yourself by torture and then being discharged a month after, even after all your death-inducing cuts have healed, didn't mean that he was _okay_. In fact, he was more likely to _not_ be okay.

And not tell her that he was _not_ okay. And try to kill himself again because he was _not_ okay, and Audrey failed at—

When they got to the critical care unit, Audrey felt her easy-going nature fading. She suddenly felt the seriousness of the situation.

She didn't know what to do, but the second that the nurse saw her, she screeched and told her to put on this most unflattering curtain-like fabric that Audrey had ever seen! She nearly wanted to cry when the nurse shoved it into her hands. They had done funny spell things on her smoothies, and bags, and on her. She sort of smelled like peppermint now! Horrible! Audrey _hated_ peppermint! And today was the worst day to undress in front of a magical nurse because she was wearing her big, comfy cat knickers!

After wearing the 'protective robes' and after they'd applied a 'sterilising charm' on her things, Audrey was told that she could see Percy! But at that point, all she wanted to do was chuck something hard and large towards the nurse!

Audrey walked inside the room and found Percy having have packed a rucksack full of his things.

Percy was not wearing ugly protective robes. Percy was sat there wearing trousers that looked like they belonged to a bloke that was at least four stones heavier than him. Audrey always seemed surprised by how scarily emaciated he was, but he looked even worse, with her arms scarred, shoulders slouched and absolutely nothing more than a thin tuft of red hair. Audrey thought that was the worst part of it until she had a look at his eyes, which were glossy and red.

Audrey was so shocked she nearly dropped her smoothie and her favourite bag.

"Hey, Percy," Audrey said.

He looked surprised to see her there. "Hello, Audrey."

"Hey. Um... _hello_ ," Audrey repeated, not sure what to say. It felt so awkward standing there.

Percy picked up his things and Audrey left the room with him.

They gave her a long list of appointments he had to make every week that Audrey had decided that when she'd gotten to the flat, she'd tape it right next to her university schedule of classes— _including_ marking the days that she missed with a star. Which she intentionally missed because there wasn't a shoe sale that she'd wake up for _before_ nine am, much less a useless, boring business lecture scheduled on a _Friday_ morning!

Getting to the flat, Audrey tried to think of appropriate things to tell Percy whilst they were on the bus ride.

In this thing called the _Knight Bus_. This bus thing gave her tummy a walloping! Or maybe that was just sitting next to little Percy. And he was little! Merlin, she was sure that if she owned a pair of size 4 jeans, they'd be _baggy_ on him!

"You look… less… _stitchy_ than I expected you to look," Audrey told Percy, who just offered her a raised eyebrow.

They told her that he had to stitch him up after all! But he'd healed so of course, he was less stitchy and…

After another five minutes of silence, Audrey pushed the milkshake to him. "I made you this nourishing drink!"

 _"Nourishing?"_ Percy pulled it up, so he could see the colour in the light. "It looks like the colour of pure toffee!"

"But I made it for _you_ ," Audrey did not want to tell him how much toffee she put in it.

Percy took a sip of the concoction, but she could practically _feel_ the sugar overload from that one sip just from his facial expression. He started to massage his temples and looked close to having a sugar-induced aneurysm.

"It's absolutely abysmal, unpalatable and already gave me heartburn," Percy told her sternly. "Thank you."

"So, you like it?" Audrey asked. Percy _tried_ not to smile… and failed horrifically because he had this widest smile on his face and it looked almost out of character! _See!_ He could smile! _AND_ he took another sip! "Do you like dates?"

"I haven't had one since my ex-fiancée split up with me over a—…." Percy flushed when she laughed.

She meant the _edible_ kind, of course!

Audrey felt more relaxed now, and she turned to see his family sat at the other side of the Knight Bus to see them off. They'd been obviously looking over at them, and noticed Percy looked less like he was bored out of his mind. He had a new milkshake bottle to analyse and breakdown at the ride back to her— _their_ —flat!

"Perce, mum and dad said they're gonna see you tomorrow at your appointment," George told Percy. "Is that okay?"

Percy slowly nodded his head. Audrey hoped that it was because she was sure Percy's father was going to spend his time talking about her toasters and her very important new edition Vitamix that Percy had bought her.

"You feeling okay?" George asked in a low voice, and Percy nodded his head again. "Words would help, Perce."

"I am feeling fine, thank you very much," replied Percy in a very automated sounding voice. "I would not mind if our parents were to take me to my appointment when Audrey's away from eight to two for her university lectures."

Audrey cleared her throat. "Actually, I—"

"Will be gone at seven exactly because I am up much before then," Percy cut her off. "And I know your university is approximately an hour away from our apartment complex, so I will make it my duty to be your personal alarm clock."

Audrey was stunned. He had memorised her schedule! And-and-and he was going to forcefully wake her up so that she would whiz out of her flat by _SEVEN_. Seven! How dare he?!

If he hadn't tried to kill himself and was recovering from that, she'd have bloody told him off for this!

At around the flat, they said their goodbyes to Percy, gave him a few awkward hugs that he awkwardly did not give back and then nodded his head whenever they said something about him taking care of himself and the short.

The flat was nice _and warm and_ _cosy_ because they just fixed the heating yesterday.

Audrey tried to make sure her room was Percy-friendly by getting rid of the large vases of flowers she had around. She went to Diagon Alley (was that what it was called? She'd gone with Molly three days ago) to buy candles that smelled like parchment paper and the ink that Percy used to write his letters. She changed her duvet, and Molly made different sized blankets that she kept in a corner just in case Percy felt cold or warm. Audrey bought the smallest size trousers she could find. They would still be baggy. Because most six-foot-two tall blokes did not weigh less than eight stones. And if they did, they were busy fainting after photoshoots in Milan.

He told her that he was going to take a shower. Audrey accepted this—and came back into the room twenty minutes later to find him wet, dressed in sweatpants and a sweatshirt that she bought him and soundlessly asleep.

Audrey probably should lay down some rules. Like _eat_ _dinner before falling asleep_ and _do not dare wake me up before nine._

She went to the kitchen and ordered a takeaway for herself and one for Percy just in case he woke up at three am and wanted to ingest a whole Chinese takeaway before going back to sleep! She even labelled the takeaway box with his name, and a little heart. And wrote a very guilt-inducing message about how she _really_ wanted him to eat this.

Whilst Audrey ate her dinner, she heard something in her— _well, Percy's_ —room that made her push her takeaway box away and then practically sprint to the bedroom. No, it wasn't the sound of her indigestion! It was almost like… _a scream?_

When she got to the room, she noticed that Percy was thrashing from side to side, looking very disturbed.

Audrey ran to him and then tried to shake him away, seeing as how his skin was slick with sweat and there were tears running down his cheeks. She shook him as violently as she could. "Percy, Percy… wake up."

" _IdontwanttodieIdontwanttodieIdontwanttodie_ ," Percy reiterated to her. _"LET GO OF ME!"_

"Percy, you're _dreaming_ ," Audrey tried to tell him, noticing how hard her hands were squeezing his shoulders. His sweatshirt was so large it was slipping off so that she was squeezing his pale shoulders directly, turning them red.

He was covered in his own sweat, panting. Audrey noticed that his owl was screeching too, trying to wake him up.

"Percy… _wake up_ ," Audrey was sure that some of the potions that he had to take made that unlikely. "Percy!"

Audrey placed her hand on Percy's chest, feeling his heart pounding against her hand.

"This… this is…" Audrey ranted to him, waving her hands. She didn't know that having to wake him up from night terrors when he had taken some potion medicines was going to be that difficult. "This is _SO_ stupid!"

There was a moment of silence before he just relaxed, sinking into his bed without much help or effort from Audrey. He turned to the side of his bed, snoozing away as if he didn't just have a breakdown in his own sleep.

" _I'M_ so stupid!" Audrey didn't know anything about these painkiller potions that he was taking or magic or—

Audrey let her hand move away. He chose to curl up against his pillow.

She stayed there standing, trying to comprehend what her next plan for action as for at least five minutes. When he seemed to be soundless asleep, she just pulled his duvet over him and left, not sure what to do.

She was terrified of doing this wrong. She could not have any _errors_ in this. "You need… someone _SMARTERER_ than I am! And is _not_ a non-magical person… _thing!_ And could make better Bakewell tarts than I could!"

She couldn't wake him up from his sleep. She hadn't fed him. She didn't know how to comfort him if—

"I don't even _like_ Bakewell tarts all that much," Percy sleepily mentioned.

"You… you woke up!" Audrey flushed deeply. Just now. When he _wasn't_ screaming in his sleep.

"Why are you so surprised?" Percy mumbled sleepily, opening his eyes and then yawning. She was the worst flatmate _ever._ "Audrey, love, you were _yelling in my ear_. You do realise that I was bound to wake up at _some_ point…?"

Audrey collapsed at the edge of his bed, heat rising in her cheeks. "And you couldn't have woken up five minutes ago when I was trying to wake you up from your nightmare—terror—thing…? _Ugh! Whatever it's called!"_

"What nightmare—terror…?" Percy asked her, waking up and rubbing his eyes. "I do _not_ have nightmares."

"I was pretty sure just a few seconds ago, you were telling me you didn't want to die," Audrey said, and then the second that she did, she flushed because she didn't know if that was the correct thing to say or if she would make him feel victimised, or like he didn't matter or… _ugh!_ "I mean to say is that…"

Percy sat up, so that he was staring at her with a confused facial expression. He literally had _no_ recollection of that? Wow. Did the nurses go insane when trying to take care of him and threw a party the second he was gone?

"You should've sent me one of your owl things when you tried to kill yourself," Audrey said in a soft whisper, her head buried into her knees. "I could've talked you out of it! I think I could've… if… if I had the chance."

She tossed a look at Percy, who looked like he was trying _not to laugh_.

"What are you doing _that_ for?" Audrey suddenly mentioned, annoyed and he started laughing. _"HEY!"_

When she heard about the news that he tried to kill himself, Audrey felt like she was reliving the day that she found out that her father was having a massive coronary and might die on his way to the ruddy hospital!

This was a serious situation. _And he was laughing!_

But what did that mean? If a suicidal person was laughing in front of you, was that a good sign? Or was this the beginning of Percy's descension into insanity because in about approximately twelve minutes, Percy's laughter would dissolve to tears and he would have an award-winning meltdown in her _—their—_ flat? And then kill her for being an awful flatmate—which she deserved and had accepted as her impending fate? Audrey felt like bawling herself now!

"What is so funny?" Audrey frowned. "I tell you to send me an owl and you act like it's world class comedy!"

"Well, I recall that a while ago, _you_ tried to set a letter on fire!" Percy was so amused by this.

 _That_ was what was amusing him? Audrey's eye twitched. And here it was because she swore that he could telepathically see the spelling mistake she made yesterday on a long business report!

"I'm sorry! That seal was _SO_ sticky… and I didn't want to ruin my nails!" Audrey replied in annoyance.

Percy crossed his legs and smirked at her. "So, you decided to _set it on fire?"_ he inquired again, and Audrey didn't know when he was ever going to let this go. She crossed her arms in annoyance, as he shook his head in disbelief.

"You… you… _UGH!"_ Audrey waved her fist in the air. So much for being serious. "I can't believe you!"

"Well, I didn't try to tie my existential crisis down to the fact that I did not know how to make a Bakewell tart," Percy commented, and Audrey felt her cheeks getting hotter. "I do not need anyone _smarterer_ than you."

Audrey should've added a little kale to his smoothie. It would prevent him from saying bollocks like that.

"Did you really mean it?" Audrey asked suddenly, voice low. "About you not wanting to die?"

Percy cocked his head to one side and smiled weakly. "I'd have to look it up later to confirm my suspicions."

What did he mean he'd look it up to confirm his bloody—

"Why couldn't you just say that _you don't know?"_ Audrey didn't know why she found this so annoying. Maybe because she was so extremely overwhelmed, and he was acting like it was absolute top-notch comedy that she was!

"I thought you already knew, Audrey," Percy was still smiling. " _I_ know everything. So, really, I can't say that I don't know. However, I can say that I'll look it up later _just to be sure_ I'm not giving you false information."

Audrey smiled a little herself. That crook! Making her smile in times of dire distress!

"Did any of the owls that you send—the owls that I couldn't open," Audrey asked, her voice soft, like she didn't want him to know what was on her mind, "Did any of them say anything about… about your… _your…?"_

"Absolutely not," he replied. But Audrey was convinced it wasn't true anyway.

She was finding it hard to believe that not a single sentence in any of the dozens of letters that he'd sent her didn't even imply what he was thinking. She read a few of them after he showed her how to open them that one time. They weren't very happy letters. There had to be _something_ there that…

"Audrey," Percy placed his hand on her arm. He looked and sounded very serious. "You're a very good friend."

She shook her head. She didn't feel like a good friend. "I think good friends should know when their friend slash almost flatmate is suicidal for a year, or they should know how to take care of their suicidal friend slash current flatmate after they've been brought home from the hospital."

Audrey felt her heart sink in her chest. "I don't feel like a very good friend right now."

" _I_ think you're a good friend," Percy reinforced. "Does that not mean anything to you?"

Audrey opened her mouth to reply, but all she could feel was this lump rising in her throat. She nodded her head.

That morning was his first appointment. He'd been discharged from the hospital for approximately all of twelve hours.

"Audrey… _WAKE UP!"_ Percy said from the end of her bed, and Audrey groaned in her bed. Who woke him up? Audrey was sure that one of his potion medication things were supposed to make him _sleep._ But of course, like stupid things, such as _drowsiness_ from strong pain medications or the fact that he was recovering from an overdose of a potion that nobody had ever survived taking, could stop Percy from doing his bloody _sun salutations!_

Gingers really didn't have a soul.

This made it almost easy for Audrey to tell Percy that her mother had reserved a session with her acupuncturist. She believed that poking sharp needles into a suicidal bloke's arm was going to make him feel bloody _rejuvenated!_

She groaned and pushed the duvet over her head her when he took it away from her.

"Audrey, this is _not_ acceptable. A grown woman such as yourself should not have her bum magically glued to her bed. A grown woman such as yourself should not have cinnamon rolls on the counter labelled as _breakfast_. A grown woman such as yourself should mark her menstrual cycle on a calendar so that she would be able to tell her gynaecology healer if there are any deviations from the normal. And a grown woman such as yourself does _not_ need this much lingerie," Percy gestured towards the floor, where he'd slipped and fell over a bunch of lacy hooky bras. "I've seen much less than this at the second-hand store that I've worked at— _and_ they were of better quality than this!"

 _"Mark your menstrual cycle!"_ She said in a mock tone of voice. "I'll mark how many inches your head is growing every day instead, so you can go get it checked before it explodes from all this _tremendous_ knowledge!"

Audrey then realised she probably should _not_ have told such things to the bloke that was just discharged from the hospital yesterday because he tried to kill himself. Her only saving grace was that Percy seemed entertained by her.

She probably tickled his funny bone every time he saw her life falling apart right in front of his eyes!

Percy rolled his eyes and then decided to add on, " _AND_ you're going to be _LATE!"_

When she heard _that_ , Audrey immediately got up when she heard that and whizzed her way to the bathroom.

After taking a quick shower and doing her make-up (she looked like a five-year-old that had just learned about glitter pencils and decided the best method was to scrawl very bright metallic colours all over her face and then stick the fakest eyelashes she had to her eyes), Audrey managed to attempt to squeeze herself in the first pair of pants that she saw… which left her thighs unable to breathe. She thought of crying in the lavatory and contemplating the downward spiral that was her life, but she literally had _NO_ time for such luxuries!

She ran outside and saw that Percy had shoved a bowl of porridge oats in front of her, covered in bananas.

"Eat this," Percy demanded. Usually, she was the one feeding him. The sodding bastard.

As Audrey crammed a spoonful of oats angrily in her mouth, she looked at the clock to see how much time she had left and nearly felt a blood vessel burst in her brain. _"PERCY! IT'S FIVE IN THE BLOODY MORNING! WHAT DID YOU MEAN I'M GOING TO BE LA—…!"_ she got cut off when she started to choke on oats.

She grabbed the smoothie that he made and nearly choked on that too. Merlin, how did any of his food go down? No wonder he was so bloody skinny if all his food was inedible.

"I am _SO_ unhappy with you," Audrey decided, groaning. "I had to cut my Mick Jagger dream short because of you. I had to contemplate if my favourite lingerie was appropriate to wear because of you. I had to wonder what my life has cumulated to and all along, _it was only five in the bloody morning_ —"

" _I_ had to tuck into a massive Chinese takeaway just twenty minutes ago because someone wrote a very long message about how unhappy they'd be if I didn't finish about half a stone's worth of noodles," Percy's traumatising moment was not nearly as traumatising as Audrey trying to decide whether thoroughly wiping her bum was worth being late.

Audrey took another mouthful of her oats. "You have an appointment today and _I'm_ taking you to it."

"But you have a very important lecture on… a-auditing!" Percy pointed towards the schedule on the fridge.

Audrey cringed. _"You have an appointment today,"_ she repeated slowly. " _I'm_ taking you to it. And I'm not going to any sodding lecture on auditioning. And no, there is _nothing_ you can say to change my mind."

Percy opened his mouth to challenge this, but Audrey knew _exactly_ what to say.

Audrey then firmly reminded him, "You are technically _not_ my flatmate yet. Thus far, you are a _guest_ in my flat. Wouldn't you find it rude to deny the hostess' hospitality?"

Percy knew that that wasn't true, but the way that she phrased that really seemed to get to him.

"That is hardly fair," Percy said, burying his head into his arms. "Now, I feel obliged to go with you!"

"Your bloody owl is still having a kip right now, Percy! Now, _that's_ not fair," Audrey commented, and then finished her oats. They tasted like dirt covered in soy milk, and she was still hungry. Oh, and she hated Percy.

Still somewhat unconvinced by having to go to the appointment together, Audrey also promised Percy that she would never put _that_ much toffee in a smoothie ever again and that seemed to sway Percy… along, of course, with the promise that Audrey was not going to be yelling at his ear in three in the morning anymore!

The healer that they had to meet with was named Penelope. What a _suave_ name! Of course, Audrey was a _suaver_ name... and it did not have the word _loopy_ in the name. But Audrey was sure Penelope was very nice!

Well, at least she thought so, but the second Percy heard that name, his face went _red!_

After further conversation, Percy agreed to apparate her to the hospital, and Audrey did not throw up… _a lot_.

He was _not_ actually supposed to be apparating, but Audrey thought it would be okay considering that Percy might have a stress-induced aneurysm if he was late (aka not _at least_ an hour early to his appointment).

Audrey realised that this appointment might be a bad idea when she noticed Percy's face pale when they walked into the clinic room together where their appointment was supposed to be at. They'd been pushed first because of the urgency of Percy's care—well, Audrey thought that it was appropriate given the fact that she heard he ingested something that nobody knew the treatment for because it was used to torture and kill _CRIMINALS_. In _minutes_.

"Percy, are you okay?" Audrey asked. "Is this a side effect of apparating? Are you… are going to _die?"_

"I feel claustrophobic," Percy said, walking into the office. His face paled even more. "Yes, I might die."

Audrey knew that Percy was extremely, _extremely_ tidy to the point of it being irritating (she found him this morning cleaning her _toilets_ with sanitised gloves and a bucket of extra-strong wizarding detergent. Even now, Audrey _still_ didn't know if toilets were supposed to be that shiny and pretty and diamond-like!), so she could understand the fact that he found this tiny busy office too much for him. There were glops of cheese covering the walls (maybe Penelope had _lots_ of pizza parties), enough papers on the table to give an environmental activist a heart attack and the wall—originally a bright green—had faded into this sombre sort of grey-green colour. Kind of matched Percy's face now!

"Even I have more standards than this and _I tried to kill myself by bloody torture!"_ Percy yelled and then jolted up because he noticed something _moving_ in the carpet and leaving the room. "Even the rats won't live here!"

"Percy, _please sit down_ ," Penelope said, standing by the doorway. "And behave yourself! You're acting like a child!"

"What colour is this carpet?" Percy suddenly asked, gesturing towards it. "And more importantly, I think it should be the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures should be notified about its existence!"

Audrey's heart started racing in her chest because she did not expect Penelope to be… well, _bloody drop dead gorgeous_.

Tall, skinny with curves in the right places—only would have to size up from a 4 because she had breasts bigger than Percy's IQ… which was deteriorating right about now as he descended into a vortex of filth-induced anxiety.

"Percy, your impertinence is not charming," Penelope said. "Now, sit down and take your clothes off."

Percy finally gave in and went behind the curtain. He must've taken off all his clothes since Audrey could see a pair of dark-blue underpants sat on the chair (no wonder he felt the need to belittle hers when his was so _cute!_ There were pictures of _books_ on his!) so that Penelope would have a look over at the marks on his skin, which had faded away. Audrey knew he had a cream to put on top, and even his self-harm scars had started to fade away, but it gave Audrey great distress knowing that Percy put them there in the first place. Honestly, Audrey wouldn't do to a piece of dead poultry what Percy did to himself! And he was alive! And could _feel_ pain…

"Is there anything that you want to discuss during this?" Penelope asked.

 _He has this unhealthy ability to wake up at five in the morning!_ Audrey thought.

Percy shook his head. Penelope was writing an official statement to refill his prescribed potions. Percy put his top back on and fiddled with his thumbs. Penelope left the room and then came back with a stamp. She told him to refill this.

Percy grabbed the paper and was just about to leave the room when Audrey's stomach churned.

"Audrey, this consultation is over," Percy told her, but she didn't feel like it had begun.

"You barely said two sentences to each other," Audrey said in a low voice.

Was Percy and his family _really_ paying money for this?

"There's nothing to say," Penelope said from the table. "His cuts are healing very well. He has no concerns. He has enough prescription medication to last him for a few days, where he will come back to evaluate him _again_ —"

"Oh, you had a great big look at his chest! And that's enough to convince you that he's _healing very well?"_ Audrey said in a mock tone. "What about doing some of those- _those magical spell cast investigation_ s to make sure that he is actually alright? Do you have those? And he's taking so many potions on a regular basis and-and-and—"

Audrey cleared her throat. "He has _nightmares_ that he can't remember!" she suddenly sounded out.

Penelope told him to take off his clothes and lie flat on the bed. Percy looked at Audrey with a hardened look that softened the second he saw how concerned she looked. Penelope pulled the curtains up so that Audrey wouldn't see anything. Audrey swore to God himself that if she found something wrong with him she'd—

Audrey waited on the side of the room, watching Penelope waft in and out for instruments on her table.

"Hello," Arthur popped his head into the room. "Sorry that Molly and I are late. We were—"

"It's alright," Audrey normally felt rude for cutting off someone older than her, but she was too busy hearing her heart pounding against her chest to actually _care_. "I'm sorry, Mr Weasley. I didn't mean to be rude."

"Love, you couldn't be rude if you tried," Arthur told her gently. "What's the matter?"

Audrey didn't know how she managed to communicate during this time. She told them about Percy's appointments, their faces lit up in the beginning when Audrey told Molly and Arthur that everything was fine and super dandy and then she mentioned that she told Penelope to have a thorough look instead of giving him a bloody _once-over_ … like she was on a date with him and decided that she knew everything about him with one look! The nerve of her!

"You did right by us, Audrey," Arthur told her very gently. "I'm sure nothing's wrong. She's just—"

"He gets nightmares," Audrey added on, in a very low whisper to Arthur. "He doesn't remember them though."

She suddenly felt sick, not wanting to know if there was anything wrong with Percy.

"In the nightmares, he said that _he didn't want to die_ ," she continued, in a very low voice, so soft she wondered if Molly and Arthur could hear. "It made me feel better to hear him say that. Even if it might not be true... is that wrong?"

"No, honey, no," Molly rubbed circles around Audrey's back. "You're doing _so well_. Percy is _so_ lucky to have you."

Audrey smiled a watery smile. Some part of her wished she'd never called out Penelope about her stupid inability to take care of Percy, who obviously needed to know that he was _not_ wasting anyone's time by being there.

Audrey felt tears fill in her eyes after fifteen minutes passed because she was suddenly paralysed with fear.

What if… what if _Penelope found something?_ And then Arthur and Molly would blame Audrey for asking Penelope to do such a thorough examination when they could've gone on with their lives _without_ knowing that Percy's brain was atrophying because of the massive amounts of toffee in her milkshake?

"Percy, you're joking," she heard Penelope say from the curtains. She'd been whispering then, not hearing a word that she said thus far. "Please tell me that _you didn't."_

"Penelope, how _long_ have you known me for?" Percy replied. "Haven't you realised I'm incapable of making a joke?"

Penelope started giggling and Audrey wondered if they were busy snogging and having a shag behind the curtains instead of doing _very important wizarding test things_ , abbreviated as V.I.W.T.T. as Audrey found out wizards like to abbreviate _everything_. But honestly, she was surprised. He didn't know that he and Penelope had _any_ kind of a history!

She walked out of the curtains. "Wow, I found the most surprising thing," she said sarcastically. "He's… _fine!"_

Percy opened the curtains, all clothed. He didn't look the least bit dishevelled. He was so polished that Audrey wondered if he had to go to a class to learn how to look like polished stone _all the time_.

"There is one thing I did mention before," Penelope said, pointing over towards the sheets that she had on the table. "The level of potion that is in his blood is still the same as when he left the hospital yesterday. The problem with this is that the potion levels will spontaneously increase and then he'd haemorrhage and bleed _again_. We are trying to give him blood-replenishing potions because he is having minor bleeds still, but enough that his blood is low, which is _not_ new information. But bleeding risk is _very high_. And if he _does_ bleed, he will most definitely die."

All Audrey could hear was _he's fine, but oh, he could die any minute. Don't be alarmed though! He's fine!_

" _I_ didn't know about this," Audrey said to Arthur and Molly, suddenly feeling very cheated that she wasn't told everything! "There's a chance he could _explode_ in _my flat?"_

She could see the headline now! _Audrey Brown's flatmate exploded after consuming her non-nourishing nourishing milkshakes!_

" _I_ didn't know about this either," Molly said. Audrey believed her. "I would remember _this_. Arthur would've—"

Arthur looked like he was the one that would explode. "Is that a joke?" he looked at Penelope with a hard expression.

He looked at Percy with a disappointed look on his face. _"Percy, did you know?"_

The look of sheer guilt that sprawled on Percy's face told Arthur and Molly everything they needed to know. For Audrey, it didn't tell her nearly enough. Because she could see how _terrified_ that he was. She could see how terrified _Penelope_ was, with the way that her hands were shaking as she hid behind her long parchment papers with Percy's specific data and information. Audrey understood why Penelope didn't bother examining Percy so seriously. Why would she? If she knew that he was going to die anyway?

"Percy, _no_ ," Arthur looked really broken. "Is this just… you can't just—"

"I suppose this is the point where I would say that I literally managed to dig my own grave," Percy said, smiling very weakly. Now, Audrey understood why he had those nightmares. "Now, I…I just have to lie in it."


	23. Chapter 23

_again please forgive me for the lack of comment replies... i am so tired i didn't even bother re-editing this chapter! oops!_

* * *

 **Love and Old Black Shoes**

Chapter Twenty-Three

* * *

Percy had been sat in the café outside the flat, drinking coffee every day after his appointments.

It had been approximately one month and three weeks since they decided to stitch him up. Percy was so grateful, and his year-long depression had melted into ether! Every moment that he was alive in reminded him just how much he would miss liquorice wands, trips with Luna Lovegood that made him feel like he'd overdosed on recreational potions and _Witch Weekly's_ emphasis on how all real men should make Charlie look like a waif!

Percy crossed his legs, and then leaned against this weary, old chair that felt like it would give way at any minute.

During this time, he had managed to make his whole family succumb to a never-ending remorse… _how_ _marvellous!_

Percy had also managed to make them forget all about Fred, because they were consistently worried about the fact that he might drop dead at any moment. He was now the reason that George's pillows were wet at night. Ginny, Charlie, and Ron visited him often despite the fact Percy had not yet perfected the art of entertaining his guests. His parents owled him _by the hour_. Oh, not to mention the fact that he had managed to give Bill PTSD _after_ the war. Poor Audrey now had to take care of him for an indefinite amount of time and had skipped very important lectures because she didn't want him to feel _lonely_ being sat at the flat the whole day by himself!

Percy tried to tell his family that it was not _their_ fault—he overreacted! For the better part of a year!

He was completely fine now. Well, he still sometimes wished to stab himself with a large blunt object, but he bet that he didn't really _mean_ it. And he was not making thorough plans to do it either, so _that_ was a good thing!

George had told him that his self-esteem and image of himself was so low that it was skewing up his ability to assess any situation objectively! He insisted that Percy needed to talk to someone that could help bridge this extensive gap between them. Unfortunately for him, Percy refused to see a psychiatric healer with them as a family therapy on multiple different occasions (why did they need _him_ to mentally heal? He was practically sat on his death bed! _They could heal on their own!_ ) but today, he agreed to go.. He also just started a potent anti-depressive potion three days ago that took two weeks to reach its full efficacy. Oh, and to compound his problems… Percy's new copy of _Which Broomstick_ was pure rubbish!

"You look sad," the waitress told him when she walked over to his table.

Percy raised an eyebrow at her. "Good morning to you too, miss," he said and watched her flush.

"Good morning," she was young and sounded uncertain. She cleared her throat when she noticed that he was leafing through the menu with a calculated facial expression. "Do… do you like the coffee?"

He looked up at her, and she flinched. "It's just… I see you every day! You must… really like our coffee!"

"I think it's overpriced rubbish," Percy calmly said. "That aside, I would like your new daily house special, which I _hope_ lives up to its name because the house special I had yesterday was particularly ordinary."

Today's appointment went well. They confirmed that he was going to die in approximately three months and that his death would be mind-numbingly ghastly… Percy, obviously, did _not_ know this information.

 _I also suggest you make a bucket list_ , his healer told him. His bright blue robes were… _well_ , mind-numbingly ghastly.

Percy raised an eyebrow at him. _I do not own a bucket_ , he replied.

Honestly, Percy was more interested in the _gossip_ he heard whilst he was waiting for his appointment _._ This morning, he overheard one of the nurses outside mention that one of the Weird Sisters' members had recently admitted to being involved in the production and distribution of ghost pornography! Percy had already suspected this spine-chilling news after their new hit, _Dead, Dead and Deader: Your Death Makes Me Feel Alive_. Unfortunately, the bloke that owed him five Galleons for that was now dead. It was a real shame... Percy _really_ wanted those five Galleons!

Apparently, Penelope told him that nearly dying did not make him any funnier. She told him that his humour was dry, cruel and distressing. Percy could understand! He felt the same way after the few times he'd slept with Penelope!

But it was strange, wasn't it? Percy always thought he'd be dead funny if he was a ghost!

What do you call a dead Harry haunting an archaic building? Well… a _pottergiest_ , of course!

That morning, Percy ordered his fortieth ridiculous latte concoction and then pretended to be surprised at how they could continue to botch up milk, coffee and syrup ( _too sweet, too bitter, too rejected-Witch-Weekly-health-matcha-tea-latte drink_ ). He tried to pay his attention towards the new journal that he bought to be able to leave his Perfect Prefect Pretty mark on the world before he died in three months. He was currently trying to fill it up with his emptier-than-a-biscuit-tin-at-eleven-at-Christmas-bloody-Eve words. Poetic injustice at its _bollocks-iest_ form!

Today's lavender latte tasted like he'd accidentally dropped one of Audrey's very expensive floral perfumes into his latte (if said perfume existed in a dungbomb form) and forgot to add sugar afterwards. The more he drank from it, the more he felt like calling up Professor Sprout for a very important private herbology consultation!

And he _STILL_ continued to drink it despite the heart burn and acid reflux! He really was bloody masochistic.

Percy also ordered a poached egg over rye as well, a small Scabbers-sized chocolate-chip pastry with low-sugar hazelnut spread, and one small yoghurt covered with honey, walnuts and oats. He ate very slowly whilst he stared at the blank pages of his journal, waiting for them to write his thoughts in a manner so articulate that would make Fifi LaFolle look like she had the writing style of a drunken, dishevelled Marcus Flint. Unfortunately, this did not happen.

He looked at his 'bucket list' page and felt like banging his head against the wall. Glumbumbles must've pissed themselves in his lavender latte because he was feeling even more depressed than usual! A feat to be commended!

 _Instead of aspiring to run the annual_ Calorie-Conscious Chaser Challenge _marathon, try to aspire to run for longer than five minutes in a row without blaming Merlin for cursing you with the endurance of a flobberworm. It should be noted that running away from your problems is not included as a secondary option._

 _Make Ginevra something crafty without the use of a wand. Make sure that it does not look suspicious enough to prompt your father to confiscate it to make sure that it does not belong in the Department of Misuse of Muggle Artefacts._

 _Draw Audrey. No, you do not need a photograph. You have a bloody photographic memory._

 _Visit France to check the departmental regulations of the French Ministry. Eat croissants when checking the departmental regulations of the French Ministry. Memorise departmental regulations in English. And French. And possibly, normal people words._

 _Walk in rain. No, it does not matter if you contract pneumonia. You will die anyway._

 _Get married._ He crossed that one out. Several times.

 _Learn how to cook potato without involving the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes_.

 _Do something bold, daring, debonair, highly uncharacteristic and completely out of character. Like taking a shower sometime at three in the afternoon instead of six in the morning._

 _Tell family about traumatising childhood experiences that destroyed your life forever_. Percy crossed that one as well.

 _Become spiritual enough to ascend onto another plane without the use of illegal potions or turning into Professor Trelawney_. _But if must choose one, attempt to avoid anything Trelawny-related at all cost. Note that the path to spirituality is cruel and twisted._

 _Show Audrey stars with telescope. Map out stars. Get married to Audrey. Have many children and live until you are past ninety, where you will die from aneurysm due to work overload_. He crossed that one out. Again.

He then pursed his lips and added one that he didn't want to admit to himself. _Go back to work._

Percy stared at his sad-looking bucket list. He felt very strongly and positively about this.

 _Go to therapy with family_ , he added on, his most recent one since he had a long talk about George regarding this. His chest ached. _Help them get over your impending death and deal with their never-ending feelings of doom and despair._

Percy paused to think, and then tried to swallow the lump in his throat—or more acid reflux. He was not sure.

 _Tell Fred that_

He paused. Percy felt tears welling up in his eyes, and he was not sure what he wanted to tell Fred that was so crucial and important that Fred had to come back from the dead to be able to hear it. He turned the page and started anew.

He looked at his watch and sighed deeply. Percy supposed now he had to go to his counselling session to talk about _his feelings_. What a trivial waste of his own time! Time that he could waste being sat on his freckly arse on his bed, rereading a book he'd already read at least six times already!

Honestly, Percy would like to watch this woman try to pry him open without resorting to Legilimency... and unfortunately for her, Percy learned how to practice Occlumency ages ago!

He apparated, an hour early for his appointment. And he was not the only one.

Percy was just about to walk around the corner when he noticed his parents stood by the corridor of the hospital!

"What did he mean that _THERE'S NOTHING THAT WE CAN DO? NOTHING?"_ Arthur waved his fists into the air as he tried to talk to yellow-haired Penelope, stood there with her flawless-looking skin and perfect shiny luxurious robes that Percy could never pay for. Percy's heart panged into his chest when he saw his father in such a state—dishevelled hair, Ministry robes looking like they'd seen much better days, and a pair of shoes that belonged to a Hogwarts' fifth year— _if that even!_ "I'm not bloody waiting for my child to _DIE!"_

Penelope stared at him with an unchanged facial expression. "Mr Weasley, I think you should've probably stopped looking for a cure the second that you concluded that you might find it in _Knockturn Alley!"_

Percy tried to imagine his _MOTHER_ stood in _KNOCKTURN ALLEY_ to find a cure for him! His heart sank lower.

 _"There's nothing we can do,"_ Molly echoed this softly, flushed from the hot, humid heat outside.

Percy couldn't imagine how _unsafe_ she must've felt stood there, trying to find Percy's non-existent _revolutionary treatment_ somewhere in a room where the bloke had to use a rubbish bin as a chair and constructed his table with old crates that were once used to smuggle illegal potions in the country!

 _"Nothing we can bloody do!"_ Arthur reiterated. "Yes, I'll just be sat on my arse until my child dies! _How appropriate!"_

Percy's head was pounding. Resorted to _Knockturn Alley?_ So, how _many other places_ had they gone to?

"Speaking of bloody which, wasn't Charlie _supposed_ to have some blokes down in Romania… _have a look at… THESE!_ " Arthur pointed towards the letters in Molly's hands. "He was _supposed to,_ didn't he, Mollywobbles?"

She slouched, her shoulders becoming smaller. She looked so tired. "Arthur, _he did_ and—"

Arthur shook his head, his hands in the pockets of his robes. "We don't have to meet Percy here until an hour, so it's not like he couldn't have done it today. Or yesterday when Ginny was visiting... what if his dragon healer mates have a radical way of treating Percy that nobody else knows about that could potentially save his life?"

" _LOVE!_ He _DID_ talk to them… _A WEEK AGO!_ " Molly raised her voice. "Don't you remember?"

"Well, of course, of course," Arthur's ears went red. "I just have trouble remembering that— _well_ — _what did they say?"_

"You really don't remember, love?" Molly asked, her voice becoming wobbly. "The Romanian dragon healers said that if their biggest dragon showed that level of potion in their blood, they'd be— _they'd be euthanising them_ _as a mercy_ to… to prevent them from having to go through such… _such a horrible, tragic death!"_

Arthur flinched, pain crossing into his hard grey-blue eyes. A tearful Molly pulled her hands up to try and hold his shoulder, but he immediately straightened his back and walked past her, his ears still red.

"What do _THEY_ know about treating people anyway?" he bitterly asked. "All _THEY_ know about is _DRAGONS!"_

Percy was flabbergasted. He didn't know they went through so much trouble for him! They should've told him! He happened to be in the possession of a few short, sixty-five-page papers that would've tell them that there was nothing they could do in the face of potion poisoning… it rated five cauldron bottoms in _The Daily Prophet!_

"What about America?" Arthur offered. "I could send another owl there again. I'm sure Kingsley wouldn't mind…"

Percy cocked his head to one side, looking at the papers in Molly's hand. He was a good distance away, but he remembered that she'd asked him specifically for his blood tests at his first appointment… three weeks ago!

Any qualified healer, however, would've probably told them to duck when the… _err… inevitable explosion_ happened.

He wished he could grab the paper right out of his mum's hands and then chuck it down the rubbish bin! It looked like it only served to give her nightmares! She had dark circles under her eyes, and she looked like she hadn't slept in _ages_.

"Arthur, we… we have to… I…" Molly stared down at the paper again. "Arthur, I'm… I'm _tired_."

"That's why we're going home, Mollywobbles. We're going to have to tidy up a little before our appointment with the new psychiatric healer that the Auror department recommended!" Arthur told her. "We'll wake up tomorrow bright and early and find someone else that could help us! We've _only_ spent a month on this! There's still a few more left!"

A _little_ tidying up? Percy gawked at his father. He'd seen swamps in better condition than his parents! They looked haggard, old and bloody horrifying. He didn't realise how badly he was impacting them.

Percy could feel the guilt swallow him whole. He had thoroughly ruined his parents' life.

"Mum," Percy walked over to her, placing a hand on her shoulder. He looked at her with a very serious expression, as she stared at him, looking like she was a little girl that had been caught with her hands in the biscuit tin. "It's alright."

She placed her arms around him protectively.

Arthur was red. "How… how much of that did you hear?"

"Most of it, but in my defence, I think the whole of England could've just about heard you," Percy said, not sure what to do when his mother was clinging onto him. He was not very good at any display of affection. "You look tired."

"We're all tired, Percival," Arthur replied, his voice stern. " _I'm_ tired of not getting an answer about this."

Percy offered a weak smile. "But you did. _Several_ times. From different healers… different _COUNTRIES_ even!"

There was a momentarily pause of silence. He felt like they could all see death staring at him right in the face. Percy could see it looming over him, like a thick, misty heavy cloud that made his limbs and head feel heavy.

"Yes, how could I have forgotten about this _REVOLUNTIONARY ANSWER?"_ Arthur yelled. "With diligent and appropriate care, you could have the _LUXURIOUS_ lifespan of _THREE AND A HALF MONTHS!"_

Percy felt his mum flinch into his arms and move away, staring at him as if he was about to disappear any minute.

 _"Oh… and when he dies, just watch him get TORTURED!"_ Arthur continued. _"Now, that'll be two Galleons!"_

"It's alright," Percy wished he had a vial of veritaserum to confirm this. "It's alright," he repeated in a whisper.

Arthur looked at Percy like he didn't understand him. And he didn't. "How could you say that?"

Percy's smile was wavering. "I suppose I came to conclude that yelling about it wouldn't help change the fact that I consumed a very lethal potion in a quantity that is sufficient enough to kill me even months after I've taken it!"

Arthur winced, as if this was the first time he'd heard that. Percy looked down at his mother.

"You do _not_ have to go to this appointment," Percy didn't understand how he could be the one that was dying and still look better than his dull-faced, dry-haired mother, or his peaky father that looked about three seconds away from having his very first heart attack. He didn't understand how Bill visited him yesterday and it took Percy ages to get used to Bill's face—as if it was the first time he'd really _seen it_ since the war.

"It is a _family_ appointment," Molly told him, as if Percy could forget that twenty minutes from now, his family expected him to bear all the secrets that he had in his mind. Percy didn't even where to begin!

His parents had probably been warned by Trelawney about the ill-fate of _his conception!_

With twenty minutes to go, Percy thought he would take a nice walk round the hospital. He so desperately wanted to buy a book because it had been ages since he had bought one. He had been so sick of being known as Perfect Prefect Percy that he had been very cautious at what he read. He wished he wasn't so bloody _boring_.

He went down to the cafeteria to sit down and wait for the time of his appointment.

He opened his journal again and read his own words. He had spent ages trying to craft his own 'bucket' list.

Percy burned his head into his journal, defeated. He was back into that equilibrium where he was terrified at the prospect of death, but unsure what was his drive for his own life anymore. Everything felt meaningless and drab.

When he lifted his had up, he noticed that he was approximately ten minutes late to his appointment.

He felt nothing.

Twelve minutes later, Percy walked into an empty room with people waiting for him and he found himself sat on at the psychiatric healer's office, surrounded by his family members. Of course, they were sat in a circle even though Percy did not like circles. Circles were continuous, without an identifiable end.

The psychiatric healer introduced herself as Lottie Tuffnell. She had been a healer for thirty years.

Percy realised that he was expected to bear his soul to a _Lot_ _Tea Tough Nil_. Really! He'd rather tell his secrets to a _Violet_ , a _Belle_ , a _Flora_ … a name that was so soft that it felt like it might break on his lips.

His eyes flicked over to his tired, weary-eyed parents, who looked ready to collapse into a heap on the floor.

She asked him about his what had him referred for the psychiatric evaluation, as if it she didn't have his file all over her lap with his very violent suicide attempt.

"How long have you been planning your suicide, Percival?" she asked him. "And how did you do it?"

"Can you please not ask questions that you already know the answers to?" Percy said in a very emotionless voice.

Lottie was scribbling something on her clipboard. _Impatient_ and _mentally unhinged_ would be Percy's bet.

George looked like he was trying to bite his lip to prevent himself from laughing. Ginny shot him a look that made George shudder. It made Percy smile. When Ginny saw Percy smiling, she relaxed in her chair and smiled too.

"Was there anything that was going on at the time that made you feel like you wanted to do this?" Lottie was writing on a big piece of parchment paper that seemed to scroll on endlessly.

"Fred died during the war," Charlie answered for Percy. "He was George's twin and mine and Percy's little brother."

Lottie continued to write. Percy kept envisioning: _gigantic family lost one member. Check for signs of inbreeding._

Percy's chest tightened. "At first…" he began saying, startling Charlie. "At first, it was about Fred."

Lottie seemed surprised to hear that. "And then what did it become about…?" she put her quill away.

He surveyed the room, and he realised how surprised his family was that he said that. He could understand. Percy was surprised he said it too. He hadn't even admitted it to himself before he came to this room.

Percy felt more comfortable to see Lottie actually looking at him. She had very kind eyes, and she looked like she did not think that he was mentally unhinged at all. Lottie looked like she wanted to _help him_. It made him feel… _good_.

"About myself," Percy's shoulders slumped. _It's ALWAYS been about YOU, Percy_ , a part of him said.

"What do you mean—?" Lottie asked, and Percy's patience was running thin already.

"I'd rather not talk about it if you don't mind," Percy defensively said, in a voice softer than Audrey's hair. He knew about how soft her hair was because he had to brush her hair aside to help zip up the back of her frock.

Lottie opened his file again and Percy felt an almost sick satisfaction in seeing his suicide attempt sprawled out in front of himself. Because it proved how much he _hurt_ on the inside. Everyone could see it now too.

Simultaneously, he just felt sick. Because nobody should do that to themselves. He felt vulnerable and afraid.

"What made you think of killing yourself _this_ way?" Lottie asked. "It's very…" _Violent? Insane? Inspirational…?_

Percy's eyebrows furrowed. He opened his mouth to speak, but he couldn't find the words he wanted to say.

"Wait one moment," his ears went red. He picked up his journal and then flipped to an empty, fresh page.

He pulled out a fresh quill from his pocket. It cost him three knuts. The ink was a thick, vibrant purple. Purple was his favourite colour… though he did not say that in fear of being told that he was a great big ponce.

 _I_

He paused, staring at what he had written so far… hardly revolutionary!

 _I just wanted to_

Percy bit his lower lip in concentration. _To what? Undergo my own vivisection?_ He crossed that out.

 _I believed that I deserved_

He paused again. He crossed that out as well. But… then it came to him—a statement that was so vague and Percy-like that he did not mind saying it at all! His safety net for which he could fall back on!

"I read about it before and thought it sufficient," Percy said apathetically. "I have 12 N.E.W.T's, you know."

"That is _very_ dark literature," Lottie concluded. "How did you get access to books like those?"

"The library case in the safe house we lived in during the first wizarding war," Percy remembered seeing nine-year-old Charlie stuff his trunk with brooms that Arthur charmed into a smaller size. Eleven-year-old Bill had stuffed muggle baseball bats into his, and then ate the last of the custard creams from the biscuit tin. His parents said that he could take whatever they wanted from the house. They thought it'll help them adjust to their new home.

Five-year-old Percy had been so scared and excited to move. He was going to have _his own room!_

Percy glanced away from Lottie, just to see his parents. They looked like they were staggered at this piece of information. Percy knew a lot of things about a lot of spells and potions—a lot of it from the _wrong_ books.

"My sister called me to ask about missing dark magic literature from before. She'd accused _Arthur_ at the time—I told her that she was mad!" Molly was even paler than she was when they'd started this. "I didn't speak to her for weeks after! Never did it come to my mind that my _five-year-old son_ was in possession of it!"

"Listen, Molly," Lottie had a very solemn look. "This session is _not_ to dispense blame on anyone."

Lottie didn't know his family. They loved the blame game as much as they loved playing Extreme Exploding Snap.

"Mum, it won't help thinking about it," Charlie told her. "It's not going to change what already happened."

Molly's lip was pursed tightly. "Alright," she was not convinced. "Fine. It's… alright."

A few moments of uncomfortable silence passed before Lottie finished writing and then she asked him: "Did anything significant happen during the first wizarding war that you remember?"

Percy flipped onto another fresh page, and kept the quill pressing against his paper.

"Percy?" Lottie called out, looking at him very carefully.

 _"Someone should come outside with me,"_ Percy blurted. _"NOW."_

His family was staring at him like he'd said something in Elvish! Percy supposed he could've phrased it better.

 _"What?"_ Bill called out. Was he seriously pretending that he had a sudden hearing difficulty because he had been mauled by a gigantic werewolf! Percy did _NOT_ buy into that. He had read the reports, you know!

Alright. Fine. His statement was rather abrupt and ridiculous. Percy probably had to explain himself.

"I do not want to answer that question in a group setting," Percy explained slowly. He felt like he was in a classroom and the thing that he was going to talk about was not real or important enough to warranty this unorthodox treatment. "I would prefer if I tell _ONE_ person and then that… that person could rely the information to the rest whilst I stay outside and pretend I did not say this information in the first place."

Lottie was writing something. Suddenly, it left Percy feeling extremely uncertain. What was she writing? _Poor coping skills? Had awful hair cut? Is thin enough to make Inferi look like they need to go on a diet?_

Ron stood up and Percy was surprised. _Ron is a fine choice!_ Percy tried to tell himself. _We get along just fine!_

"Come on," Ron said him, gesturing to leave. The room was silent as they walked out.

 _You have prepared for this_ , Percy told himself. Like it was just an examination he had to pass. _Nobody can harm you._

Ever become he came to this room, he had a feeling that one day, it would come to this. There was a steely feeling in his stomach the closer the inched to the topic. Percy spent days trying to tell himself that he would talk about this.

 _If you do this, everything bad in your life is going to go away… alright?_ Percy felt like speaking to his inner five-year-old that didn't understand why his chocolate tasted didn't taste so sweet anymore. _I promise._

When they were outside, Percy pulled his rucksack off him. Ironically, it used to be Ron's, before he destroyed it. Molly stitched it up for him when Percy was fourteen and he had his rucksack dumped in the lake by Marcus Flint.

Percy felt tentative about offering Ron the tiny little pictures he had in his hands. He could crush them with the palms of his hands even. It was preposterous how something so small could ruin his entire life. "I found them in Uncle Gideon's journal after the war," Percy said, not sure how emotionless he could be when talking about something that d _estroyed his whole childhood_ and left it in tatters. "More appropriately, I stole them because…"

Percy felt his eyes becoming wet, but then the wetness disappeared.

"Uncle Fabian took me to see them," he admitted. "During the first wizarding war. I had… irritated him. I asked him if he'd buy mum a few Dreamless Sleep potions because she hadn't been sleeping well and he…"

Ron flipped through the pictures and Percy could still remember those bodies flashing in front of his eyes.

He wished he could've specified _who_ he wanted to come with them. His little brother was standing there—mind you, Ron towered over even Percy—with a facial expression that was serious enough to make Hermione look like she pranced around in Quidditch games wearing slinky lingerie in her free time.

"He slapped me," Percy added on. "And he apparated me somewhere. I wasn't particularly sure… but I _saw_ them."

He memorised those photographs. These didn't die of quick spells and death potion. They died of _torture_.

Torture that was so bad that bones became liquified along with the blood, until it was pink. Faces that were half-eaten, infested with maggots that died the second they tried to feed on the rot. There were bodies with no skin, just cartilage and rubber that looked somewhat like bone. There were thoraxes that were split open, hearts that stopped beating, and skulls that were fractured so wide. Watery brain matter seeped from their fractures, from their eyes, their mouths.

"I asked Uncle Gideon what made bodies look like that," Percy explained. "He did not tell me but I… I read about it."

Ron pocketed the pictures instead of giving them back to Percy.

Their eyes met, and Percy did not understand what Ron was trying to look for. _Evidence? Horror? Emotion?_ Percy did not know, but he did not say anything. Ron's eyes were big, blue and sad.

 _He's wrong_ , he told himself. _You can be happy. You can be happy. You can be happy… it's going to be alright._

"This is where you got the idea," Ron put two and two together. "About the—"

"Yes," Percy cut him off. He didn't know why he felt like it would somehow preserve the last shards of Ron's innocence if he never said the word 'suicide attempt'. He felt his eyes water. "He asked me if I could be happy, knowing that this happened to people… and I was _FIVE,_ Ronald."

 _It isn't fair,_ a whiny, childish part of him said. _I didn't do anything wrong._

He never thought he'd ever tell anyone about this. He didn't know if he felt _dread_ or _relief_.

"Okay," Ron said, and his voice sounded teary. "You stay here, okay, Perce? I'll tell them everything. I promise."

Percy nodded his head solemnly, a weak smile finding its way to his mouth.

Ron walked inside first. Percy could hear explanations, and he found it so easy to let go of the tears burning into his eyes. There was _fear_ —a very child-like fear that somehow, he was going to be told off for this. _Why are you telling us now? Is it because you're so obviously wrong! We know that Fabian was a good person! He wouldn't do something like this_ and…

Then this sudden _relief_ washing over him that made him feel about five stones lighter than he was.

Percy did not have to explain how light he was to begin with. But now, he felt free of an eighteen-year long curse. He didn't have to think about how things would change if _he'd just told them_. He'd already told them after all!

He felt like his steps were lighter when he left to wash his face. He looked at himself and did not know what he felt.

But maybe, it was going to be okay. Maybe they were not going to _hate him_ when he walked inside…

Apprehensive, Percy found himself slowly walking back to the room. He opened the door and they were all sat, as if nothing had changed and he just hadn't told something that had been in his mind for _YEARS_.

He sat back down on the chair. He looked down at the clothes that Audrey had bought for him and remembered how much of a joke it was. This blue jumper and grey trousers. He looked like a hoodlum. He had very small amount of hair on his head. All he needed was one of Bill's earrings, and his old, obviously natty plimsolls to complete the look!

"Your family told me that you did not write a suicide note, but you left a little envelope for them to find with your will attached," Lottie continued, and Percy looked down at his empty-paged journal. "Do you regret your attempt?"

"At times," he also regretted Audrey telling him to eat carrot cake for breakfast yesterday.

"Do you wish you would've died?" Percy wondered if he sounded like Lottie.

She sounded about as emotional as Audrey coming from home, in her barista uniform. Fortunately for him, all he cared about was that she didn't make him sound like an absolute lunatic that had been poisoned by glumbumbles.

Percy did not like this question. "I'm not sure."

She asked him if he'd ever done anything like this before. He hadn't. Merlin, how would he be alive if he tried to do this _twice?_ His concentration was wavering away. He found himself drawing Pygmy Puffs on his journal.

"Would you ever attempt killing yourself again?" Lottie asked.

"I would be very tentative about it," Percy admitted. "I did not expect this backlash. I was very embarrassed when I woke up, mind you. I did not… expect this kind of reception. It feels very nice… but I feel like I am conning my own family into feeling remorseful for my action because of my own decision to— _well_ —snuff it in."

"You are _not_ conning anyone," she said, and Percy found that strangely reassuring from this woman made of stone.

"Thank you," he said, and he genuinely meant it.

She asked him who found Percy and what happened afterwards. Bill spoke quietly and mostly in short sentences.

As Bill mentioned how horrifying it was to find Percy on his bed, sat in a pool of his own blood with bits of his skin peeling off in his hands, Percy felt terrible. But when Bill mentioned he, too, was following up with a psychiatric healer for this incident, Percy felt _absolutely devastated!_

"They told me I had PTSD," Bill said, and Percy felt his chest hurt at the thought that the war did not give Bill nightmares but having to carry him to the hospital had given him _post-traumatic stress disorder_.

Percy tapped Ginny's shoulder and asked her about it.

She told him that Bill had to scoff a lot of mind-altering potions to even be able to function after what happened.

"Oh," Percy said when she told him that. It was his fault. He wished that he wouldn't die alone.

"It's not your fault, Perce. You didn't do it on purpose," Bill had overheard this. "But… does this mean we're even?"

"Not in the slightest," Percy told him with a roll of the eyes, and Bill laughed, genuinely laughed, like the kind of laugh that made you feel happy when you heard it. Percy felt very confused.

Bill nodded his head and smiled—a real, bright smile. "Fair enough."

But honestly, he didn't feel comfortable when they turned their attention back to Percy.

They asked him a few more questions, but he didn't answer them. Because all he could think about was that Bill had to take very strong medication because he found him. Percy buried his head into his long, freckled arms. What he had seen _eighteen years ago_ was enough to traumatise him to the point of changing him from something that was once very innocent and pure! _Why_ did he think it was okay to subject his family to it? Why did he think that it was okay that he just showed Ron a picture of _exactly_ what he'd seen ages ago? Those pictures that kept him awake at night, of thin, skeletal bodies with watery, blood-tinged bone broth seeping out of their jagged eye sockets!

Without much else to be said today, they told him that they'd took him back to his flat with Audrey.

George let them take the muggle route that Percy _loved_ —with buses that moved slower than flobberworms through a mountain of Fred's disastrous peanut butter concoction that stuck to the roof of his mouth for about three months before Pomfrey dutifully managed to extract it. During this time, Fred sent Susan Bones, who had a very severe nut allergy, to the infirmary three times just by being in the same room as her.

Percy liked that he could think of nice things about Fred. He couldn't think of any nice things in a long time.

Ron and Bill were sat beside Percy. He felt uncomfortable with this arrangement and he tried to pretend that he was preoccupied with staring outside the window, watching parts of London pass him by.

"Are you okay?" Ron asked.

Percy slowly nodded his head. "Yes," he felt exhausted, but he thought he was alright.

"I didn't expect you to say that much today," Bill had a point. Percy had been extremely closed off. "What changed?"

"One of the healers I went to for a standard appointment told me that I should consider writing a 'bucket' list," Percy explained and saw them both flinch at the mention of the fact that he was going to die… well, in three months but he was going to die nonetheless. "I believe this was included of them."

George looked like he perked up from where he was sat across from them in the bus. "Can we help?"

"No, you cannot," Percy did not want anyone to see what was on his list. He did not include fighting with dragons, making Ministerial equipment explode and falling in love with a siren. "They are not for _your_ eyes."

"Come on, Perce," George was smirking. "It can't be _that_ bad…"

"Mum, Bill and I are going to stay with Percy tonight at the flat with Audrey. Is that alright?" Charlie asked.

Molly looked like she was deep into her own thoughts. "Yes, yes," she hadn't even listened to Charlie's question.

Percy just noticed that she was clinging onto the photos that he gave to Ron, looking at them with a heavy look in her eyes. They were little photos, small enough to fit in the palm of his five-year-old hands. He could've so easily crushed them ages ago, threw them in the fire, but he couldn't bring himself to do it.

"Mollywobbles, love, it's alright," Arthur said. Percy heard _it's okay_ and _it's alright_ a lot too. "It's okay."

He did not know what was supposed to be _okay_ and _alright_ , but it somehow made him feel better.

" _When_ did this happen?" Molly suddenly asked. It was not accusatory. It was sad, broken, like she didn't know where in time that she could've missed something like this. "How could this have happened to my child? _Under my roof?"_

Percy frowned. "Mother, this was ages ago," he told her. "I was five," he tried to comfort her. He was not successful.

"That makes it _worse!"_ Molly commented, putting the photos down. "No five-year-old should ever see _THAT!_ "

Molly tried to pretend like she didn't notice a bunch of muggles staring at her like she should've been chucked in the loony bin. She looked tired, withdrawn, with hair that looked as bad as it did when they first finished the war.

"What was Fabian thinking?" Molly wondered. "Why… _why haven't you told me?"_

Molly was sobbing, and he wished he could make everything stop hurting.

Percy offered a small smile. "Mother, he… he died the day after," he explained. "What was _I_ supposed to say?"

They sat in silence for the rest of the time. Percy got Ron to switch seats with him so that he was directly peering out of the window. He felt more comfortable the closer he was to his flat.

"This is where Audrey works at," Percy pointed towards a little pretty café that they passed. The bus just stopped. Ron peered to look at Audrey, who was wearing her barista uniform. A gush of wind suddenly lifted her skirt, and Percy saw her pink knickers. He flushed deeply. "But unfortunately, Audrey did not turn up to work today."


	24. Chapter 24

_i really do not want to do review replies. if i do, i probably would wait a while before posting a chapter! i want to let you all know, however, that i recently have a poll up on my page of 6 different Percy ideas i want to do after this one. i'm hoping to finish this story before it reaches 30 chapters. :) but i cannot promise that._

 _meanwhile, the family miscommunication saga continues._

* * *

 **Love and Old Black Shoes**

Chapter Twenty-Four

* * *

"I thought you wanted us to go out for a run!" Audrey yelled, stood there with her perfect bum, toned arms and thighs were quad definition. _She_ was not athletically challenged! "Percy! You've barely made it past the steps!"

"Why are there seven flights of stairs?" Percy asked as he made it down the last step; he was already red-faced.

He could not believe Audrey managed to sneak a look at one of his first bucket list goals and now, she thought that he aspired to be Oliver Wood before his death! (What a horrifying thought. Percy did not know that he had a deep-seated need to be brainless.) Now, they were stood out here, with matching gym clothes _(how embarrassing!_ Percy hoped he didn't see anyone he knew, or else, he might wish for his death to come prematurely! He should really stop writing his thoughts out in brackets... it was starting to look ghastly and disjointed _)_. Currently, an excited Audrey was holding two bottles of smoothies she made from frozen cherries, blueberries, cocoa, yoghurt and bananas.

The pink substance was already _laughing_ at him! Percy Weasley _run?_ Only to flying memos and ten-page reports!

"Have your pre-workout!" Audrey pushed one of the smoothies to his chest—which was manly and sculpted, of course. And not at all looking like that Jack Skellington fellow that Audrey showed him yesterday.

 _How have you never watched the Nightmare Before Christmas?_ Audrey asked him yesterday.

 _I didn't know they made a film about my mother,_ was Percy's response.

"A _pre_ -workout?" Percy said, his face chalky. "Is not one workout sufficient? Why do I have to do one before? I…I bet I can find a report somewhere that would mention that that is… _completely unnecessary!"_

Audrey just laughed at him. It was then she explained that a pre-workout required food to fuel his muscles before engaging in aerobic exercise. Of course, Percy had already known that. He was just delirious because he had to _warm-up_ by running down seven flights of stairs! He drank part of the heavy, thick chocolate berry muck that Audrey had made for him. His stomach already started to turn. _He hadn't even run yet!_ Disaster was brewing by the corner!

Or was it just that cheap, substance-less coffee that Percy had gotten used to drinking from the café by their apartment?

"Do you feel reinvigorated?" Audrey asked him, after she chugged down her smoothie. "I have so much energy!"

Percy looked apprehensive. "Unfortunately, Audrey, I just realised that there is something incredibly important I have to do upstairs… it requires me to be busy for the next three months! _What a pity!_ But… but I suppose I'll get plenty of vigorous exercise trying to avoid George's new manky sock collection!"

Yes. He was busy… he had loads of shows on the telly he hadn't watched yet!

Audrey grabbed his arm and then dragged him with her, running down the block.

Percy felt like he was being tortured. He felt like she'd given permanent injury to his poor legs. The more he ran, the more he felt like he was going to faint. Or _die_. She stopped right around a corner, as he struggled to take a breath.

"How long was… how long… was _t-t-t-t-that?"_ Percy asked, breathing heavily.

"We've been running for approximately fifteen seconds," Audrey cheerily said. "Only two-hundred and eighty-five seconds to go until we manage to cross off the first thing on your bucket list! We can do it!"

Audrey seemed to notice Percy turning to walk away. _"HEY!"_ she looked annoyed. "Where are you going?"

 _"To owl my psychiatric healer!"_ Percy called out, some of his colour returning to his cheeks. He did not care if he got into trouble with the Obliviator team because they _had_ to take pity on him! He was not right in the head—and he lived with a charlatan that thought that they should be _running on a Friday morning!_ "She thinks it's bloody horrifying I tried to kill myself for torture but there are people in this world that consider _THAT_ a leisurely activity!"

Audrey crossed her arms over her chest. Percy was just about to enter the flat when he saw Hermes whizzing out with a pretty purple envelope… Percy's mind only registered one very poetic statement: … _NOT. THAT. ENVELOPE_.

Percy was so horrified that he started to run after his owl, waving his arms in the air like a twelve-year-old Charlie after consuming way too many peppermint toads after dinner.

 _"STOP!"_ Percy yelled at him, running after Hermes. "I did _NOT_ give you that to… _to send!"_

Audrey followed Percy, running straight after him. He ran down sidewalks and zipped through people, face flushed.

As he ran after Hermes, Percy's face paled. He was aware that Audrey was following him but all he cared about was the fact that his treacherous owl was trying to tease him by flying in front of his face with the envelope. Percy was jumping up and down, trying to take the envelope away from him.

 _That was enough of this tomfoolery_ , Percy decided! He was not going to give Hermes _ANY_ pudding tonight!

 _"OWLS DIED DURING THE BATTLE OF HOGWARTS, SO YOU COULD LIVE!"_ Percy yelled out at him, and Hermes just hooted as if he didn't care. He… had to Obliviate the whole of London now. " _I EXPLICILTY TOLD YOU MULTIPLE TIMES I DID NOT WANT YOU TO SEND THAT ON… ANY… ACCORD!"_

Percy huffed. Hermes looked sorry and placed the light purple envelope down by a table.

"What was in the…" a panting Audrey tried to ask Percy. She paused when Percy's relief disappear as the envelope began to be carried away by a swift and relentless wind! How poetic! Cosmic! Wonderful! _"Percy?"_

His as-embarrassing-as-the-rash-he-had-in-fifth-year letter was flying away!

As he ran after it, he could not believe that Audrey managed to force him into a pair of jogging _SHORTS_. Every night he cried at the thought that he dared to undress himself in a muggle woman's bathroom and she decided to give him _SHORTS_ to wear _OUTSIDE?_ And she expected him to wear them whilst he was sober! The nerve of her! Percy was sure he had boxers that were longer than this two-inch fabric that served only to cover his crouch! Percy wanted to go to the 'police station' (as Audrey had told him about) to report himself for _public indecency!_ He was amazed that these muggle women hadn't threatened him with sexual harassment charges yet!

As he ran after his letter, he managed to join a group of other blokes that were running.

They smelled like… well, they smelled like they hadn't had a relationship in at least five years. How colourful!

How did he end up here? Couldn't he just say _'play one last Quidditch game with family'_ instead of this?

Percy passed by them to try and get to his letter. The envelope… which managed to get dislodged in this _young woman's purse!_ He couldn't have made it up if he tried! She was apparently extremely attractive, or at least Percy deduced considering that he could see a swarm of blokes worshipping her like glumbumbles did to their queen and were also salivating more than a crup in a Pavlovian experiment!

Percy managed to break into the wall of half-off soda bottles and sweaty button-downs to manage to get to this mocha-haired girl that wore sunflowers on her hair. Very elegant and refined. Pity that Percy was allergic to sunflowers.

"Excuse me, miss," Percy suddenly asked, out of breath and red-faced. "My envelope flew into your bag."

The blokes around him just burst into laughter. Percy just flushed into a deeper red.

"Is _that_ supposed to be a pick-up line?" a bloke asked him, and Percy did not know what was wrong. Yes, it _was_ a pick-up line! He was there to _pick up_ his envelope!

"Your envelope flew…?" She turned around, and then he felt his heart stop when he saw that face. " _Percy?"_

"Daphne," Percy suddenly felt his nose get stuffy and his ears get blocked. He doubted it was from his sunflower allergy as much as from the fact that he was allergic to his being humiliated. He _SLEPT_ with Daphne Greengrass after the war. Out of sheer desperation and mourning, of course. "Yes, my envelope flew away from me."

She picked up the purple envelope from her purse. "You have a habit of buying cheap letters that have their own mind. Do you remember the one that letter you sent me that said 'Miss Greengrass, I did not mean to have a mindless night-stand with you straight after the battle of Hogwarts. I regret it fully and hope that I never have to see you again in my life as long as I live so I don't die of embarrassment'? _Horrible_ quality paper!" she told him. "I can't believe you bought stationary that flies away from you!"

"My letter does _not_ have a mind of its own," Percy said. When he took his letter back, it… slapped him in the face.

Daphne laughed, and she shook her head. Percy made a mental note to Obliviate the muggles after.

 _AND_ the blokes that saw him running down the street shouting about the battle of Hogwarts. _AND_ the poor, unsuspecting fellows that had to see the shape of his arse in these- _these running shorts!_

 _"PERCY!"_ Audrey yelled at him when she caught up with him. "You… you ran _WAY_ past five minutes!"

Percy trudged back to the flat and wouldn't say a word to Audrey about the contents of his most embarrassing letter.

Audrey begged incessantly and pleaded with him. She had even gotten his family involved in this! Audrey threatened to put _all_ her teacups in an asymmetrical pattern. Ron told him that he would make sure Percy woke up to a nightmarish site—all his books replaced with endless copies of _Quidditch Through the Ages_. Percy told Ron that he wouldn't dare do that to him on the basis that Percy would probably prematurely have an aneurysm and bleed all over the carpet. Percy had met avocados that were could write better books than that old rubbish! And the fact on page forty-eight that kept on getting recycled in other form Quidditch literature was _absolutely false!_

But Percy stayed resilient. He did not tell anyone about what was in the contents of his super-secret envelope…

 _Until_ he accidentally told Audrey the contents of the embarrassing letter whilst he was busy trying to dissect Audrey's Cornish pasties on a Tuesday lunch. Of course, she served him a Cornish pasty because she hated him.

"It was a request to please withdraw a stupidly enormous amount of money," Percy wrote the letter it in the middle of the night when he had decided— _stupidly_ —to buy a very expensive, shining ring for Audrey and ask her to marry him.

It was the worst idea that he had ever heard… _and_ that included all the things that Fred and George said! Including that one time that ten-year-old George asked Percy if fire was… fire-proof.

Well, when you thought about his foolish proposal schematic, it was oddly romantic though eccentric. It _wasn't_ like they weren't in a relationship together and he had three months to live— _now_ dwindling down to two and a half!

And finishing the paperwork required to marry a muggle in time would be an unfathomable task!

Percy also concluded that proposing when one was not in a relationship with that person was not very traditional. Percy enjoyed traditional things—save Cornish pasties of course. Mind you, he was supposed to burn the letter in a fit of rage and humiliation when he first wrote it, but pity, he fell asleep. It was because of the dastardly combination of potions that he was taking so that he died _slowly_ of potion poisoning!

Speaking of all foolish things… Percy could not believe that George had put all of _Fred's money_ in Percy's Gringotts account! As if—as if Fred had _left_ that money for him! Well, he _did_ , but Percy did not believe that Fred was ever of 'sound mind' to begin with! How did anyone in the Ministry _allow_ him to make a will?

"What did you want it for?" Audrey asked, whilst she was eating that- _that_ unworldly invention.

Percy's mind must've broke, because he actually _told her_.

" _IwantedtoaskyoutomarrymebecauseI'manimbecile_ ," Percy explained, and then immediately went red when he said it.

Audrey looked like she'd just been stupefied. "I hope I did not hear that correctly."

She did not say anything. The Cornish pasty that he was eating did not say anything. The walls did not say anything. And Percy was about to descend into the highest level of insanity if someone didn't say _something_.

"But then… well…" Percy's voice was an unsteady whisper. "Of course! Well, it's…"

Audrey's Cornish pasty was weeping for him, full of gravy and other Cornish pasty bits.

"Well, I realised that it was…" Percy cleared his throat. "It was… hardly appropriate."

 _It was all that ruddy therapy that he'd been to!_ He thought it was alright to say statements like _THAT_ now! Percy now genuinely believed it was alright to _TELL_ people what he was thinking— _how appalling!_ He bet right in this moment, even Hermes was feeling second-hand embarrassment for him! _AND_ his owls sat in his own faeces sometimes!

She choked on her pasty. Percy hoped that Audrey did not die of an acute airway obstruction. That, too, was hardly appropriate. A woman like her should die more elegantly. Like in a bed of flowers that Percy was probably allergic to.

"Hardly appropriate? Bloody hell it is!" Audrey immediately replied. "It's the most inappropriate thing I've ever—"

 _"Pardon me,"_ Percy cut her in the middle, feeling defensive because his heart was being crushed already _without_ her reaction. "Does _this_ include the fact that you've accidentally packed your underpants in my rucksack one morning and I reached for my journal but instead pulled out Marks and Spencer size fourteen briefs in the middle of a café?"

"I am not a fourteen," Audrey huffed. "I just want to buy comfortable underpants!"

Percy felt trying not to laugh. Merlin. He was _ill in the head_. Even in the middle of the soul-crushing pain he felt in his aching chest, she made him _laugh_.

 _"Oi!"_ Audrey was not happy with this. "What are you laughing for? _You're_ supposed to be shocked at yourself for even mentioning that to me when—Percy, we're not even together! We just… live with each other! As _flatmates_ … that used to fancy each other… well, _you_ still fancy me but-but-but… _IT IS HARDLY APPROPRIATE, PERCIVAL!"_

Percy shook his head. He was laughing because one of their first conversations was about uncomfortable underpants! It was a pathetic reason to laugh, but he couldn't help it… especially since she'd forgotten all about that!

He did not have to worry about _that_ problem much longer. No, he hadn't decided to go on an underpants strike before his death! He… he _still_ had to spello-tape his underpants! In fact, he'd gotten the extra strong spello-tape to make sure his underpants and trousers didn't fall to the ground when he walked.

"You know, for a bloke that's supposed to be stiff, you laugh an awful lot," Audrey complained. "And it irritates me."

"I thought that was supposed to be _my_ line, Miss Brown," Percy smiled, and he looked down at his mountain of deconstructed pasty and thought it represented his life very much.

As the humour faded away, he felt that familiar pang of rejection that he'd been trying to ignore. She'd refused a _date_ with him! Of course, she was going to refuse _a bloody proposal_ —especially when they were not actually together. Especially when it was not the traditional way to go about these things…

 _But it isn't like she has to cope with me for very long!_ Percy thought. _I come with a two-month lease!_

Audrey put their plates away after she firmly told him that she didn't want his help.

Percy was sipping a coffee then, trying to pretend that the feeling in his chest was heartburn when Audrey said, "Percy, I love you." And then his heart did a swoop that he'd once seen a Chaser do. "But not like _that_. And…"

He watched her shoulders slump. He wondered how her eyes looked like, but she kept his back turned to him.

"I'm frightened of liking you like… like _that_ ," Audrey admitted, and then she glanced at his way. There was this pain in her eyes that hurt him too. She looked like a little helpless child. "I'm afraid of… what'll happen when you'd die... and _I'd_ have fallen in love with you. Because then… what am _I_ supposed to do?"

Percy realised he was selfish, but he also _wanted_ to be selfish. He didn't say anything.

"Percy, I fancied you once before. It's very easy to get warped into something— _well_ —magical with you," Audrey said, and she gave him a smile that made her seem ten times more beautiful than she was. Percy did not even know that was possible—and he swore he fell in love with her all over again. "But I'm just… I'm…"

"It's alright," Percy was so sick of saying that when he felt so crushed on the inside. "I did not mean to say anything."

"I'm glad that you did," Audrey sat down after she'd finished with her dishes and put them out to dry. Percy resisted the urge to use a spell to give them a more thorough clean. Audrey's dish-washing abilities were not exactly up to par. "So, you could know that… if things were different, then… I'd… I'd have said yes."

" _Despite_ the fact that it's hardly conventional?" Percy asked, feeling his hands go cold and clammy.

"I was not one for conventional things either way," Audrey told him, and this time, she smiled at him. "One day I let in this bloke in my flat that thought that my Vitamix was a Beethoven symphony."

" _That_ is hardly appropriate, Miss Brown," Percy was smiling back at her.

Audrey turned to sorting out the pantry. They had so much food everywhere. There were new pots of honey by the counter, and a vase of lavender flowers. Percy suddenly was hit with the very real fear of death, and he was not sure why the honey pots and lavender flowers made him feel so much pain. Yesterday, he ate a piece of dark chocolate, and choked on it. Today, he did not eat any, and his pants felt looser on his body. Time felt like an enemy as it sprinted past him in an alarming rate. Percy was evidently not good at running after it… or after anything for the matter. And now, his feet hurt, and he did not know where he was anymore.

"Percy," Audrey put the pots next to the new tea leaves that she bought that was supposed to detox her body out of… Percy was not sure, but she was sure it would make her lose a stone overnight. "I…"

He couldn't predict what she wanted to say. Her hands formed fists, and her knuckles were white.

"Yes?" Percy asked in a small whisper.

"I'm sorry," Audrey suddenly said, her voice teary. "That you're going to die when you don't want to anymore… I wish… I wish I could just… well… I could… do you know? Do you know what I'm saying?"

Percy smiled very weakly. He understood perfectly. "Yes."

They went to one of Percy's therapy sessions together a few days after this. It was just them together. Percy was not sure why, but they didn't talk about the letter. Percy _wanted_ to talk about the letter, but Audrey didn't want to anymore. Besides, they had far _more_ pressing matters to discuss.

"He has no consideration for me," Audrey told his psychiatric healer with arms across her chest. _"It's torture!"_

"It is most definitely _not_ torture," Percy was appalled at her statement— _torture?_ How could she? He endured her making Cornish pasties for three days, and she called _this_ torture? "You're tactless."

"You're boring," Audrey commented, staring at him with a hardened facial expression.

Percy heard first years come up with something more ruthful than that! " _You_ are unnecessarily high-maintenance."

"You're stiff, horrible and you drank all the tea in my house in the span of three days," as Audrey spoke, Lottie was just staring at them. She was clutching her quill very tightly. "You are _not_ doing this to me anymore. I will not allow it. You know, these days, women have rights that should not be ignored—"

" _You_ should be happy I discovered a part of your muggle culture on my own!" Percy argued. "Audrey, you cannot tell my psychiatric healer that you want to burn my _Queen_ records just because _you_ think that it's torture having to listen to _Bicycle Race_ at five in the morning. And I do not need to be sectioned because I like Freddie Mercury's voice!"

Audrey was resilient. By the end of the session, she bought discounted ear plugs.

Percy supposed that they went on like this for a while. He didn't talk about his suicide attempt anymore that she talked about the fact that he wanted to propose to her. One of those days, he opened his journal and read the pages on his bucket list. He decided to wake up early one day, sit by the kitchen table and draw Audrey. It took him five hours.

By the end of it, his hand cramped and he nearly fell asleep into his drawing. He was not very good at portraits, so he just used cheap pencils whilst he drank copious amounts of coffee.

He was tired and felt like crying all over his portrait because he was so edgy and filled with sorrow and pain.

Percy hadn't drawn in years. He'd never had the time to, but it felt nice to know he could still draw.

When he was a child, Percy had lots of time to draw. He used to draw werewolves at the back of stories about the moon. He drew baby dragons in books about fire and war. In big books he read for school, he used to flip over to the last few pages of the book—usually empty and draw whoever he'd seen that day. He'd drawn Fred and George multiple times even. He'd probably have their most minor features memorised from memory.

That memory was fading now, and it was leaving Percy so _unsettled_.

How could he forget someone that he'd seen for twenty-three years of his life in the matter of a year? How could he forget how someone you loved so wholeheartedly _sounded_ like? How could you forget memories about someone whose memory was tearing you apart on the inside? Someone you thought about often? How could you?

"You'd forgotten about me too, you old sod," Percy said to the air.

Percy still felt petty that Fred and George hadn't ever told him about opening their very own joke shop. He'd have done the papers for them if they asked. He'd have bought one of those deadly contraceptions if they asked. But they _didn't_ ask. How could he spent twenty-three years loving someone and end up with a relationship as disjointed as this? Percy wondered when he had stopped shading his paintings. He'd forgotten where his colourful quills were. He'd forgotten where he'd kept his grey shoes, so instead, he wore black trousers and white button-downs.

If this was what he forgot, then what did he remember?

Percy was struggling with this. He picked up Audrey's fellytone, and then dialled in his father's number. Audrey taught Arthur how to use his fellytone, and she'd taught Percy too. She wrote down Arthur's number on a _Post-It_ and he taped it to the fellytone with spello-tape. As the phone rang, it hadn't really percolated through Percy's mind how early it was, and that his father might not answer his fellytone. He didn't consider the fact that he could just use Floo powder and he'd be in the Burrow in a second because Audrey had a fireplace whilst Percy didn't.

"Hello?" his father's voice was tired. Percy wanted to feel guilty for waking him up so early, but he didn't.

"Hello," Percy replied, leaning against his table.

Percy did not know what to say, so he said nothing for five minutes. Then his father hung up the phone on him, and his heart hurt him. A few minutes afterwards, Arthur emerged from Audrey's fireplace, covered in coal and coughing dust because Audrey refused to let Percy clean that asthma-inducing chaos she called a chimney! She said that the mucky ruins were what gave it a festive and vintage feel! Percy knew that mould on a yoghurt carton was vintage too, but _she_ wouldn't stick her tongue into a pot now, would she?

"Father?" Percy walked over to him, and Arthur just looked at him with a surprised look on his face.

When Arthur inched closer, Percy shook his head and stepped back.

"What's wrong?" Arthur was fearful. "Are you alright? Are you taking your potions? _Why are you so frightened of me?"_

Percy was _not_ frightened of his father! Arthur looked at him in confusion before Percy pulled out his wand. He called out a spell, and a gigantic bucket of water hit his father over the head.

Arthur shrieked, and Percy flinched. Oh, he had forgotten the water tended to be cold! Well, at least he was clean!

" _WELL!_ I am most definitely awake!" commented Arthur, offering a tooth-bearing grin. " _NOW…_ What's wrong?"

Percy smiled back at his father and wrapped his arms around his chest. "I did not say anything was wrong."

"Well, you didn't say anything! I thought… well…" Arthur's grin faded, and Percy found himself slightly amused.

Percy shook his head. "I suppose I got lost into my big head. Saying something to bring me back to reality would've sufficed _without_ you having to apparate down that… infested, contaminated cesspool of caked on mould and debris."

Percy made Arthur a cup of tea, and they sat down and ate some of Audrey's cheap biscuits. Audrey did not eat them, because she only ate posh biscuits that had ribbons of frosting that looked more like decorations Percy saw in weddings. At first, Arthur asked him how he'd been getting on with the hospital, and Percy was bored out of his mind telling his father about _just perfectly fine he was thank you very much_.

"And I am doing fine in therapy. And I am also doing fine with my blood results," Percy replied automatically. "And I am doing fine in not dying in my sleep spontaneously either, as is evident by my continuing existence."

"Well… well…" Arthur looked like a Chaser that was just about to be hit by a Bludger. It was not very encouraging. "I'm… I'm _very_ glad that you're doing well, Percival and I hope you actually are doing well and not telling me that you are doing well and then doing something that you would regret!"

Arthur then eyed Percy closely. "Oh, you look pale," Percy internally flinched when his father suddenly grabbed his face and pulled him closer to inspect his paleness. "Are you—?"

"Father, I _am_ pale… it's hardly revolutionary!" Percy shouted. "I am also anaemic… and I will die of blood loss."

Percy picked up a _Nice_ biscuit and stared at it. _Nice_ biscuits were the meanest biscuits around. They tasted like nothing until you ate too many of them and then had a terrible stomach ache. Then you can taste stodgy biscuit every time you took a breath. Horrible little buggers. Should be banned from the market. It might reduce the rate of children coming into the hospital with Nice-biscuit-induced-stomach-pathologies.

"I'm sorry," Percy said, and then looked up at his father, who looked like he was about to have a breakdown.

"Oh… um…" Arthur offered a nervous smile and then ate a biscuit before yawning. "Well… that's alright, I suppose. Absolutely fine. This is a great time that I'm having doing… well, what we're doing is nice! _Who needs sleep?"_

Percy crossed his legs over each other and then placed his hand on his cheek.

"Have I upset you?" Arthur suddenly asked, and he looked almost worried. "I-I did—"

Percy shook his head and offered a weak smile. He placed his tea down and took the cup from his father's hand, which was still overflowing with tea. He placed that on the table too. "Are you alright?" Percy inquired.

Arthur nodded his head. "I am absolutely fine. I—"

Percy inched closer and wrapped his arms around his father. He rarely ever initiated hugs, but he knew that in this case it was particularly necessary.

Arthur's face crumbled immediately, and Percy felt her heart sink when his father started to bawl into Percy's shoulders. Percy shrunk slightly, his arms tightening around his father. His heart now felt like it had just been ripped out of its chest. "It's alright," Percy tried to say, his voice wavering away. "I'll be alright."

"Don't be daft, Percival," Arthur said, as if Percy didn't know. " _How the bloody hell could you be alright?"_

Percy just offered a weak smile. He didn't know what to say to that.

"Alright, alright," Percy replied. "If you continue to soil my good laundry with your tears, then I will not be alright."

Arthur pulled away from Percy and looked over at his shirt, like he hadn't noticed it before.

"Merlin, how many _layers_ are you wearing? You're sweating right through them!" Arthur decided to mention.

Percy's cheeks coloured in dramatically and then looked down at his arm. He'd worn about five or six thick layers because it made him look more human and less… like a corpse awaiting death. Even if he was technically awaiting death, he certainly didn't have to look like he was about to succumb to famine now, did he?

"Yes, well..." Percy made the flat colder by making it the lowest temperature setting on that contraception that Audrey always used to adjust the coolness of the room. She told him that he was being malicious and unreasonable just because he wanted to 'cuddle up with London's finest cotton'. "It's… it's a fashion statement!"

"A _fashion_ statement?" Arthur echoed. "Percy, you're wearing Charlie's hand-me-downs."

Percy did not want to correct him and tell him that he was wearing _Bill's_ hand-me-downs. Bill was a bloody twig, and the fact that Bill's jumper was this massive on him, after five additional layers, absolutely disgusted him.

"They're not Charlie's, are they?" Arthur suddenly asked, noticing how Percy peaked.

"They're Bill's," Percy placed his elbow on his knee.

Arthur stared at the jumper with a surprised expression. "That gigantic thing is _Bill's_?" he looked sceptical.

"It's not _that_ big. _I'm_ just very small," Percy mumbled under his breath.

Arthur shook his head in disbelief. " _Really, Percival!"_ he sounded _so_ disappointed. "Every time I swear I see you, you somehow manage to magically get smaller than the last time I've seen you! Next visit, I'll bring a muggle magnifying glass just to make sure I don't accidentally step on you with my giant foot!"

Percy just flushed. "Eight and a half is hardly large for feet," he mentioned, rubbing his neck.

"How much do you even weigh?" Arthur suddenly asked. Probably one of Percy's most hated questions, along with _how was therapy going_ and _will you please stop playing that racket, Percival? It's three in the morning!_

"Err…how much does Ginny weigh?" Percy asked. That probably did not help the situation.

Arthur didn't understand why Percy was asking, but he was thinking about this. "Round about eight and a half."

"Ginny is _not_ eight and a half stones," Percy wouldn't believe that. She was a little thing, barely fit around his arm! Well, not nowadays. Nowadays, her arm made his thighs look depressing.

Arthur cocked his head to one side. "Do _you_ weigh eight and a half stone?" he mentioned it like it was unfathomable.

 _"I wish,"_ was all that Percy mumbled.

"What was that?" Arthur asked, and Percy just flushed deeply. _"Percival."_

Arthur did manage to get a specific number out of Percy after probing about it for a few seconds.

"Did the hospital give you anything for that?" Arthur suddenly asked and Percy nodded his head. The hospital had given him potions to take. Unfortunately, they were meant to be taken with food which Percy did not eat much of. "The… _whole wasting away into obscurity_ , Percival… is hardly going to help anyone!"

Percy knew his family probably talked about this topic death in the last few months. It had been the only thing anyone noticed before and suddenly, it had just been forgotten. And because it had been forgotten, Percy's efforts to eat had gone from terrible to non-existent. If Percy did not eat for a few days, he surely didn't care anymore. In fact, Hermes was trying to feed him the same sandwich for five days now. Percy threw it out yesterday because of how rotten it got.

"When did this become such a problem for you?" Arthur sounded extremely annoyed.

Percy opened his mouth to answer that but then he pursed his lip together.

"When I moved out of the house," Percy's answer surprised Arthur. " I… I didn't know how to cook, so I just got used to not eating as much. Well, I lost a stone then… but I most definitely ate."

Percy remembered the days where one of his mates just apparated to his flat when he was asleep and forced him to the nearest takeaway place at three in the morning after asking him what he'd eaten that day. He had incidents of becoming so plastered he'd inhaled _boxes_ of doughnuts. There wasn't probably a pub in London that Percy hadn't been to. That year, Percy was glassy-eyed, nauseous and fearful of getting sacked 90% of the time. And somehow, he _always_ ran out of his hangover potions halfway through the week!

"It just wasn't in my mind as much…" Percy just wanted to go home, but at the same time, his pride wouldn't let him go back home. Remembering that time left him feeling sombre. He… didn't want to think about this.

He had so much he wanted to ask, so many questions he wanted to know the answers to. " _Why_ did you start drinking Charlie's illegal potions?" Percy suddenly asked.

 _"What?"_ Arthur was surprised at the shift in their conversation.

Percy didn't repeat the question. He knew Arthur heard him.

Arthur cleared his throat. "Well… err…" he frowned deeply. "Percival, I just lost _my child_."

Percy slowly nodded his head. "I know," he said, but that wasn't his question.

Arthur didn't say anything for a while. Percy didn't think he'd say anything at all.

But Arthur did. Percy listened to his father talk about how he took the first sip thinking that nothing was going to happen. But then _something_ did. And it felt _good_ not having to remember how cold and rubbery Fred felt into his arms. There were days he could hear Fred laughing in his mind, like an echo snide laugh and it made Arthur angry. Percy listened, whilst his father told him how quickly he felt like he needed a drink of _something_ so that he could make Fred stop talking to him. Stop reminding him how much of a failure he was that he _let him die._ Arthur told Percy about how unsettled he felt when he hadn't had anything to drink, how sick he felt mentally remembering all the things that he'd told his family when he'd been intoxicated and the physical nausea he felt when he hadn't had a round. And when he did. There were times when Arthur woke up, feeling cold and clammy and he would rub them together and wonder how he was still alive. But he didn't know how to answer that, so he just had a drink. Because he didn't know how to deal with this feeling inside, this _empty_ feeling sitting in his bones that… there was something _big_ missing and there was this hole inside of him that he remembered every time he saw the hole in George's ear.

Percy listened and drank tea together with him. When Arthur stopped talking, Percy asked, "Do you still drink?"

Arthur nodded his head. "Not nearly as much, Percival. When I'm not thinking about a way to somehow fix all things, when it's quiet and it's three in the morning and Molly's asleep, it's so easy to…"

His father looked angry at himself. "I'm your bloody father. I shouldn't be telling you things like this. Putting this on your shoulder when you're…" his lip quivered, and he shook his head, ashamed of himself.

They just kept on getting into these lapses of silence. Percy didn't want any more silence. It was why he played Queen at three in the morning when he woke up in the middle of the night. It was why Hermes sometimes hooted when it was very quiet, that kind of quiet that felt like nails being drawn on chalkboards.

Percy nodded his head, swallowing the lump in his throat. "What are you going to do when I die?"

His father didn't look like he wanted to even think about it. "How can you accept this?"

Percy felt his heart drop down his chest. He felt tears burning into his eyes. He didn't want to accept this. He felt like he'd made the biggest mistake in his life by chugging down that phial. He destroyed his family. He made Bill sick and gave him post-traumatic stress disorder. He was making Audrey listen to all his Queen records because he couldn't deal with himself. He made his mother doubt every decision she'd ever made. He wished he could disappear, but he was afraid people will look after him. And he'd worry them _even more_ …

 _"How could you just sit there accepting this?"_ Arthur repeated, and Percy just felt his shoulders drop.

Percy didn't know when the tables had turned so much. He felt like every time he saw one of his family members, he could feel their pain permeate through their fake smiles as they asked him how he was.

Arthur's cheeks were red. Percy could feel how wet his jumper was from Arthur's tears just a few minutes ago.

" _I_ don't have to answer that," Percy finally said. "Now, get out of my flat."

Arthur was surprised at how hostile Percy became, but Percy didn't care.

"I try to spend _my_ precious time helping you attempt to get over my impending death and all I'm met with is resilient. I'm done attempting to help," Percy had spent three hours yesterday trying to talk Charlie into going back to Romania where he was happy and trying to ask him about why he started to use illegal potions, alcohol and numbing potions to get him through Fred's death. That, too, ended up with Charlie slamming the door in Percy's face, and then an owl sent a few minutes after, mentioning that he was sorry, and it was just a touchy subject. _"Sometimes, you lot make me want to go to the kitchen and slice my throat!"_ Percy noticed his father flinching.

"I do not want to see anyone anymore. You clearly aren't trying hard enough, and I'm done using _my_ time to help anyone else if they don't want to help themselves," Percy turned away, his arms crossed over his chest.

Arthur placed his hand on his back. "Percy… this therapy is for you, not for _us_ dealing with—"

 _"For me?"_ Percy echoed and Arthur nodded.

Percy was shocked. "What was the point of giving _ME_ therapy? I will _DIE!"_ he watched Arthur flinch again. "What's the point of making _ME_ feel like life is worth living? _I'M_ not going to bloody cope with my stupid death!"

"Percy, you couldn't have thought…" Arthur shook his head. "The therapy wasn't for us, Percy! It was for _you!_ "

Percy couldn't believe that. He'd bloody wasted his time. He'd wasted a huge chunk of his last days on Earth because he thought that the therapy was for _them_. He thought that they wanted him to go to therapy to sort himself out, so he could help them figure out what in Merlin's name _they_ were supposed to do if he snuffed it in!

His father offered a soft smile. "We wanted _you_ to feel loved before you…"

 _"LOVED?!"_ Percy echoed. "Loved…? How the bloody hell am I supposed to feel loved if nobody _listens_ to me?"

He told them that he was wrong! They were right! He shouldn't have done it! He was _selfish_ and _cruel_ and…

Percy just felt tears running down his freckled cheeks and his father paused. Percy ran his hand through his hair, shaking his head. He wished he could make this pain inside go away. He wished he had an answer.

"Get out of my flat. I am done talking to _anyone_ about anything," Percy was not sure of how he felt. He was also just tired of seeing people. He was tired of being shunned about the things that he wanted. He did not want to talk about his stupid suicide attempt— _but he did!_ He thought it was for _them_. So, they didn't have to wonder what he'd been doing. He didn't want them to feel guilty before they died after he bloody threw them under the bus! _"And I mean it."_

Percy was done taking up people's time. They were trying to help _HIM?_ What a laughable thought.

After he kicked his father out of the flat, he grabbed his things from Audrey's flat, and wrote her a lengthy message on a _Post It_ that he kept on the fridge. That same day, he packed his things and bought cheap hot chocolate from Diagon Alley before he went back home. He believed that they wanted to cope without him! That was why Percy hadn't come home—but now, he was beginning to think that maybe they thought that _he_ didn't want them back anymore! After coming to that conclusion, he apparated from Diagon Alley to the Burrow and threw himself to a tattered old bed the second it turned eight at night… and then he realised he'd forgotten all his shiny new records back at Audrey's place.


	25. Chapter 25

_i have an exam tomorrow so i am just updating this super quick. i reread this really quickly and tried to make some changes, but if they're not optimal, don't blame me as i'm absolutely knackered! enjoy xxx_

* * *

 **Love and Old Black Shoes**

Chapter Twenty-Five

* * *

Charlie thought it would be nice to visit Percy that day. Well, he thought it would be nice, until Audrey stumbled into the Burrow eight in the morning, red-eyed and horrified. She was coughing up bits of Floo powder, covered in coal.

She was crying. She fisted her dark, highlighted locks her olive-coloured hands.

 _"Where'sPercyhowcouldIlosehimheliveswithmeOhmyGod,"_ Audrey sounded out to Charlie.

She proceeded to grab him by his shoulders and then squeezed them so tightly that her fingers went purple. Charlie, however, felt like her grip was mediocre at best. He supposed that that was what happened when you were used to dragons slashing you with their claws at five in the morning.

"I lost Percy," Audrey told Charlie in a more coherent tone. "I _LOST_ him. I don't know how… what if I told him things in my sleep that I didn't mean? _Is this-is this because I didn't accept his engagement because we aren't together, and I-I didn't want to fall in love with him?_ Is this because I told him he couldn't play that stupid Queen record that he bloody loved so much oh how I still wish I can smash him over the head with it— _OHMYGODILOSTHIM!"_

Audrey's words made Charlie feel like he had just chugged a dangerous amount of Romanian elixir potion.

"You _lost_ Percy?" Charlie reiterated. Now, that _that_ part percolated right through his head, he panicked. Because losing a bloke that tried to kill himself by torture was not good. "How could you _LOSE_ a six-foot-two bloke?"

 _"I… WAS… ASLEEP!"_ She sobbed violently, waving her arms around dramatically.

Charlie wandered towards the Weasley family clock. Percy's handle was… moving all over the place, not exactly stopping anywhere. That alone was enough to give Charlie his first coronary! They'd added _AUDREY'S FLAT_ to the clock, but it seemed like nobody was there now. His father, however, wasn't home yet. His handle was pointed towards _TRAVELLING_ and Charlie _just knew_ that his father had something to do with this!

"It's alright, it's alright," Charlie turned his attention to the weeping Audrey, fearful honey eyes red and swollen with tears. "It's not _YOU!_ It's… my Dad! Maybe they had a chat last night. And… he must've… must've upset Percy!"

Charlie knew he should've been the Curse Breaker in the family. He obviously had an impressive set of detective skills.

Just as they spoke of Great Merlin himself, a dishevelled Arthur apparated to the Burrow.

Before Arthur could walk—or rather sprint from the looks of things—up the stairs, Charlie stood in front of him with a furious facial expression. Merlin, did his father really look that old? Merlin, he was a thin man… he looked so sad. It broke Charlie's heart. Wait. No. He was supposed to be _ANGRY_ at him!

"You said something to Percy, right?" Charlie accused, wiggling his finger back in the direction of the Weasley family clock. "Merlin! You've the nerve to tell Percy _anything_ that might've upset him! Here we are—walking on eggshells, and you go in with some sort of metaphorical dungbomb?! I'm livid—and I hope mum is too!"

He hoped that he was right, because Charlie didn't know what the hell went on… he was making this up as he went.

Arthur's face was sordid. "He…" his voice was soft. "He thought that the therapy was for _us_."

Charlie was surprised to hear that, and he stiffened. _"What?"_ his voice was soft.

How could he think that the therapy was for _them?_ They weren't the ones that tried to chug down a torture-inducing potion! They weren't the ones that were going to die in three months… now _two_ and a _half_ —after they decided that they regretted their own suicide attempt! The family decided this might help Percy feel better before…

Charlie didn't want to think about that. He just shook his head. No, no, Percy was alive _TODAY_.

"He thought that _we_ were coming to terms with his death—he thought we wanted the therapy for _ourselves_ ," Arthur explained, and Charlie suddenly understood why Percy kept on bloody probing about what they'd been doing in the rehabilitation facility and why he felt the need to drug himself with enough elixirs to kill a Peruvian Vipertooth.

Charlie thought that Percy was trying to avoid the subject! No wonder he seemed so upset last time they talked!

"When I told him that it was for _him_ to feel better about himself, he was flabbergasted!" Arthur continued to explain. "I think he feels like we might've tricked him into it, and then he kicked me out of Audrey's flat. I tried… I tried to come back in, but by then he'd packed and left! And I've no idea where he went!"

"I'll go with you," Charlie offered in a soft voice, as he watched his mum appear at the top of the staircase. Her hair was a mess, and she looked extremely exhausted. She'd not been sleeping well. "Mum, did we wake you?"

"Yes," Molly said in a tired voice. "Is… is there something wrong?" she looked like she was contemplating putting on her pretty robes, doing her hair and going about her day when Charlie explicitly told her that she should stay in bed!

 _"NO!"_ Charlie and Arthur immediately said.

"Audrey?" Molly inched closer to see Audrey standing alone in a corner. "Have you been crying?"

Audrey glanced a look at a worried Charlie and Arthur. She nodded her head. "I just thought to come here so I didn't wake Percy up with my… well, weeping," she paused and then tactlessly added on: "… I have _really bad_ periods."

Charlie would give up thirty Galleons if he could unhear that statement just now.

"I am certain that it is _not_ that time of the month for you," Percy said from behind Molly. Charlie was sure that that was Ron's pyjamas that he was wearing because Ron was the only person that could tower over Percy and Bill. The sleeves of that top were so large on him. It was almost comical if it wasn't for the fact that Percy was so bloody thin.

"Percy!" Audrey yelled out in annoyance, and then her irritation melted. _"Percy!"_ she called out happily.

"I came here to sort out a few technicalities!" Percy explained to Audrey. "I pinned a note to the fridge!"

 _"Technicalities?"_ Molly looked at Charlie and Arthur with apprehension.

"Aye, he thinks that we went to therapy for _us_ , not for him," Charlie explained to Molly.

 _"Therapy for us?"_ she reiterated. She looked confused as she stared back at Percy, who just nodded his head. Molly looked like she was trying to rationalise that thought in her head and came up short… Charlie felt the exact same way!

"You try to kill yourself," Molly's eyebrows furrowed. "And you thought we were going to therapy for _us?"_

"Yes," Percy looked away. "Well, I _am_ going to die. I thought… _well_ … I believed that it makes far more sense for you to bridge gaps with me to prevent you from…" he sighed in defeat, realising that his thought process was so convoluted that nobody could follow him around it.

"Hey," Charlie looked at Percy with a softened expression. "You do know that—"

"Are those _my_ pyjamas?" Ron came up behind Percy and made him jolt from where he was standing.

Charlie watched Percy and Ron ping-pong a little bit about the shops and where they'd bought the pyjamas.

It destroyed whatever atmosphere they had before—but Charlie believed that Percy was terrified that they'd sink back into a rabbit hole when they died! Though Charlie couldn't fathom even how he was going to begin to cope with losing Percy _and_ Fred in what felt like only _days_ apart—how was it that Fred had been gone for a _whole year?_ How was it when Charlie could remember going upstairs in the early summer mornings, hearing both Fred and George fight with each other about who was going to go get the breakfast that morning!—and he didn't know how it would feel if Percy just didn't _exist_ anymore.

Honestly, there were times that Charlie sometimes felt like it was a real treat that he'd gotten to watch Fred grow up. Lots of older brothers had never seen their little brothers grow more than a few months without succumbing to Voldemort's first reign. He'd taught Fred and George how to ride their first broom… he'd tried to teach Percy too but all that ended up with was Percy with a fractured clavicle and a shattered pair of glasses. Other times, he felt like he lost Fred too early, that he hadn't seen much of Fred's life at all and just when it was blossoming, he just disappeared.

And when Fred disappeared, Charlie felt like he'd taken this whole big chunk of him too! Pity he couldn't find that chunk after consuming illegal Romanian elixirs. Pity that no matter how drugged he was, there was still this cold ache in his chest. He still cried at night when he thought about Fred too much, and then in the morning, everything would be okay. But something would happen that would remind him of Fred, and then he'd feel crippled.

Because he didn't think of Fred all the time. In fact, some days passed when he didn't think of Fred at all. Some days passed when all he could think about was Fred.

Some days, he thought George looked like he was due to break apart at any given moment. There were days where Charlie passed by George's room and heard George animatedly talking to himself, pretending that Fred was _still there_. He talked and laughed like nothing was wrong. And then there were days where George banged his head on the cupboard until he felt his head throb, so he wouldn't have to think about him. He thought of how Ron came home plastered one day, sobbing into his arms and Charlie just sat there silent. Whenever Charlie confronted Ron's drinking, Ron just told him that just because Charlie went to rehab didn't mean that he was now the poster child for anyone with any addiction! He thought of the days that Hermione was holding Ron's arm in the kitchen, speaking to him in very soft docile tones. Ron looked like he was stuck in his whole world sometimes!

And that was _BEFORE_ Percy tried to make an Eton Mess of himself!

Charlie remembered how it felt like when he'd first seen Percy upon coming home. He was very rigid faced, cold and he left on the first night that Charlie came back home! On any other accord, he would bloody hate that sodding bastard! But all he could see was how _little_ of Percy there was. He thought Percy had a deadly eating disorder or something to that effect—how _else_ could he have looked like that? Charlie vaguely remembered the fact that Percy admitted he'd not eaten since Fred died— _five_ days after! Charlie was going to really give Percy a talking to but that was before he heard from his own family that Perfect Petite Percy wasn't allowed to sit at the dinner table because poor Georgie threw a temper tantrum and _they_ didn't want to deal with it! Great Merlin, Charlie didn't know how he managed the night without breaking into the stash of expensive Romanian elixirs he had in his cupboard—that he _still_ didn't have his heart to throw it away months after!

Just in case he _needed_ it! Yeah, right! Charlie knew it was his safety net. He couldn't bear to throw it away.

And he knew that being an addict, having enough elixir in his cupboard to kill him was not a good idea.

"Charlie, I bet we can make something that makes it so that we don't even need a broom to fly!" Fred told him the day that sixteen-year-old Charlie came back from Hogwarts, showing them his new Cleansweep… well, his new _second-hand_ Cleansweep. "Isn't that right, Forge?" he nudged George, who complained about how he wasn't speaking to Fred after he ate all the pasties that his mum made that morning.

Sometimes, when he was stressed, he walked into the room and peeled back the potions from the cupboard. He just smelled them sometimes. He remembered the days where he'd gotten so drugged that he felt like he was floating, like… well, like he didn't even need a broom to fly! Like the feeling that he would get when the air was rushing through his skin and sitting down his bones. Charlie told himself that he shouldn't have one, because one led to two, and two would lead to forty-two. And then he'd be in St Mungo's emergency room. And he'd have failed… _again_.

 _Everyone knows once an addict always an addict!_ A part of Charlie always said. _They don't expect anything else from you._

Ever since Percy and George's suicide attempts, Charlie had been wondering himself how nice it'll feel like just to somehow submerge himself in the forty-two phials that he had. He knew it would _kill_ him, but he felt like it would be a pleasant death. The kind that made him feel like he was floating in the air, disappearing from the face of the world. And he wouldn't have to worry about how mum was dealing with this. He wouldn't have to worry about how George was dealing with this. He wouldn't have to worry that his father would find the elixirs and chug them down himself.

Charlie wouldn't have to live with the fact that he used to get drunk with his own father and vomited in his shed.

He wouldn't have to deal with the fact that when he was half-drugged, he told his father to try _the very thing that was killing him on the inside!_ Because he wanted someone to understand how hard it was to _stopstopSTOP MERLIN WHY COULDN'T HE JUST STOP WHY WAS IT SO HARD TO STOP WHY WHY WHY_.

How bloody dare he! All the bills that they now couldn't pay! Percy's hospital bills were going to give _BILL_ an aneurysm… he was the one that was paying for them, because his father spent most of his time drinking his pain away instead of working overtime like he should. _Everyone_ knew that… _Percy_ didn't know that since he'd been told to live with Audrey at her safe, cosy flat, but if Percy knew, he'd be bloody livid about it!

He knew that the reason they were in this mess was because Percy had thoughts like the ones that Charlie had been having recently— _about purposefully overdosing on a great amount of elixir_ , but he couldn't bear himself to tell anyone! Weren't two blokes that had attempted to end their lives enough for Charlie to admit that it was a _bloody awful idea?_

Mind you, Charlie didn't tell his family that he was completely banned from coming back to Romania now because of his potion abuse! They didn't _want_ him back! Charlie didn't know what to do with his life anymore.

He had no more energy, drive or spark. He thought that the days were longer than they were.

Charlie knew he wasn't going to do anything. He was not planning to consume a torture-inducing potion. He was not going to accidentally take excessive amounts of dreamless sleep potion. He was not going to do _anything_ …

So, what was the point of bothering _other_ people?

Bill had PTSD. Ron and Arthur were drinking themselves to death. His mother was probably seriously depressed. George's insomnia was going to kill him anyway. Ginny was probably dehydrated from all her crying.

Charlie was… fine! Relatively compared to everyone else...

And it wasn't like he made his struggle _obvious_. Charlie's main priority now was making sure his father did not find the forty-two phials in the cupboard, because his drinking was getting worse. Molly didn't say anything about it, because she was focusing on not falling apart herself. Ron was plastered and angry and… _sad_ all the time.

It was bloody horrible. This whole thing was a never-ending nightmare, starring _The Butchered, Bothered Burrow!_

Charlie watched Percy urge his mother to go back to bed, and that he was fine.

After twenty-five minutes of Percy sweetly telling her that he was just going downstairs to have a little tea, his mother finally gave in, nodded her head, gave him a sweet kiss on the cheek and then disappeared to her room.

She was looking the worst she'd been in a long time. Charlie didn't even know how much pain his mother had to be in. She refused to stay stuck in bed for very long. She told him that she didn't want to be the way she was when Fred passed away. Molly was honestly already acting like Percy was _already gone_. She didn't know what to say to him, but Charlie knew that it was eating her up on the inside. She'd been trying to read books about this sort of thing, but she could barely get past a few pages of any of those self-help books without bawling over her new flowery vase that she bought for herself. Her book told her to do something nice for herself… pity how she chucked that vase to the wall when she found an old picture of a happy twelve-year-old Percy hugging Bill that she'd forgotten all about!

Percy saw Audrey out, who said she was going to come back after her lectures to see him.

Those two were about the most awkward mates Charlie had ever met! At times, they seemed like more than mates, and at other times, it was like Audrey and Percy could barely stand each other. Percy asked her if she'd bring his 'records' over and she had a spiff about how awful he was. Percy managed to smile as Audrey berated his bloody records. It was almost uncanny. Charlie didn't know how she did it, but Percy was smiling for _ages_ after that!

They didn't talk about what Percy said until they were all huddled around in the living room.

Percy had been busy reading a book throughout this time. Charlie was surprised that one needed at least five naps to get through a two-hundred-page book—really! Percy was honestly _always_ asleep.

Charlie didn't know what to do with most of the day, so he usually just walked around the house and watched other people doing things. He usually annoyed Ron a great deal. He went to Shell Cottage often because Bill always needed a helping hand. He sometimes went out to Diagon Alley just to get an ice-cream, visit George in the shop, or see what was going on in Quality Quidditch Supplies. Charlie wasn't sure what he used to do in his free time anymore because he never had any back in the Romanian dragon reserve—and he was alright with it! And when he and Arthur were in rehabilitation, they always had lots of activities to do. Nowadays, not many people wanted to do things with him—and all his mates were back in Romania. Most of them were under investigation for illegal activities. He had no energy to do any of the _activities_ he used to, and nobody really dragged him up at five in the morning for remedial yoga anymore.

When Charlie showered and came back with chocolates from Honeyduke's, he saw that his parents, Percy and Ron were sat at the living room now. They seemed like they were in the middle of a conversation.

Percy was standing by one of the couches, still dressed in Ron's pyjamas. Molly was standing right beside Percy, hand on his forearm and looking at him with pleading chocolate-brown eyes. Ron was leaned against the wall, arms crossed. He was not wearing pyjamas because Percy was wearing his pyjamas. Arthur was sat on one of the loveseats, glasses practically slipping from his eyes, as he cleared his throat every few minutes. George practically threw himself on the couch, legs crossed and wearing more colours than most exotic augueries.

Charlie walked inside, putting his bags aside. He didn't feel particularly bad about not being included.

"I do _not_ need therapy, mother," Percy said in a tone that told Charlie that he'd already said that more than once.

George rolled his eyes. "You need therapy for even bloody thinking that _WE_ need the therapy more than you!"

"Unfortunately, _I'm_ going to be too dead to reap the benefits of it," Percy said in a cold tone of voice. " _You_ are not."

"Percy, stop," Arthur ordered, noticing how weepy Molly was getting.

Ron just crossed his arms over his chest. "You know, Perce, there's tonnes of blokes that have terminal dragon pox that go to therapy…" Charlie knew that was a classic example. " _You_ might need to adjust to thought of dying!"

 _"Adjust to…?"_ Percy echoed incredulously. "I tried to kill myself! I'm… _VERY_ well adjusted to the thought of dying!"

Charlie placed a hand on Percy's bony shoulder, and he looked down with an annoyed expression.

"Perce, look, we're just—" Charlie wanted to say _worried about you_ , but Percy cut him off.

"It's you lot that need the therapy! _I'M_ the one that's leaving you all by yourself whilst I… I don't particularly know what ghosts _do_ but I'm sure it's easier!" Percy yelled, and Charlie's heart ached. "I thought that you wanted an answer for why I've done it so that it could help _YOU_ with the fact that I decided to snuff it in, _NOT_ so you could… _cure_ me!"

"We don't want to cure you," Arthur said in a soft voice. "We want to _help_ you."

"What, pray tell, the point of _that?"_ Percy looked at his father. "Make me wonder how wonderful life is just so I could spend my last few days wondering about how it's a shame I've decided to end my life at twenty-three?"

Charlie watched Molly flinch, and then Percy look away to stare at an old pair of waxy candles sat on the table.

"Perce," Charlie's voice was soft. The therapy… it was the topic that Charlie had been thinking about all day. He wasn't sure what he'd been doing since seven in the morning, but it made him exhausted. "If we can convince you we'll be fine after your… _um_ …" he cleared his throat. "Would you go to therapy?"

Percy looked at Charlie like he was insane. This was not going to bode well.

 _"Pardon me?"_ Percy spat out, his voice acerbic.

Charlie cleared his throat and he was about to speak when Percy just… _exploded_.

" _YOU_ trying to convince me that you promise that life will go as normal even if I succumb to a perilous death?" Percy challenged. "Normal life for you, Charlie, is _NOT_ in Britain if I recall correctly! It's being sleep-deprived whilst surrounded by death-eating beasts in the heart of Romania. Last _I_ checked, we don't _de-dragon_ the garden!"

Charlie's face flushed almost instantly. "Well, that is… oh Merlin—I can explain that!"

He most definitely could not explain that. At least not in a _nice_ way with _nice_ words—

Percy raised an eyebrow. "It isn't dragon season yet?" he spat out icily. "Poor ole Charlie won't go back to—"

 _"I CAN'T GO BACK!"_ Charlie cut Percy off.

Percy cocked his head. "Too tired to do the official documentation for the Department of Magical Transportation, have you?" he mumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.

 _"NO, YOU BLOODY PRAT!"_ Charlie snapped. _"IT'S BECAUSE I'VE BEEN RUDDY WELL SACKED!"_

Charlie cleared his throat when he saw Percy look down at his feet.

"Apparently, abusing illegal potions doesn't bode well for one's career," he noticed how guilty Percy looked. " _Perce?"_

"I'm sorry," Percy mumbled. "I… I just am not particularly convinced that things will be fine after and I…"

"It's fine," Charlie said, and he meant it. Even if his ears were still red, and he felt utterly humiliated that he'd been sacked from the only thing that he'd ever been _really_ good at. "Just… go to therapy, Perce… _please_."

Charlie didn't know how his family got lost so much in translation. It was like they were speaking in two different languages. They wanted the best for each other, and Percy wanted the best of them too. Somehow, this resulted into multiple rows and mood swings instead of a love and compassion that lasted a lifetime.

"You too," Percy told him in a soft voice.

Charlie cocked his head. He didn't understand what planet Percy came from! Obviously, one that thought that his family needed the therapy more than the bloke that tried to torture himself to his own death!

 _"Us too_ , _"_ Charlie looked up at his family for confirmation, only for the stare at him with suspicious looks on their faces. They obviously were not going to let go of the fact that Charlie had kept this little fact a secret from them for ages. But what did they think? He'd been off work for a year! It was bloody _obvious_ then, wasn't it?

Percy slowly nodded his head, and Charlie placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Alright," he didn't sound convinced yet that he should be going to therapy for _himself_. "Pity you don't understand."

"That's your problem then, Perce," Charlie replied in a softer voice, and then just passed by him towards the kitchen.

They were both going to therapy! Charlie got Percy to admit that he would go again, so _why_ did he feel so defeated?

After everything died down, Charlie went to put his chocolates in the cupboard—he had enough in his room. He had nothing to do all day and thought a chocolate spree would get his mind off things.

 _"Charlie?"_ Percy's voice broke him out of his concentration.

Charlie had been trying to cram about five gigantic chocolate bars into a very small space. Charlie did not know why he wanted to buy one-kilo chocolates, but fortunately enough, his family would somehow find a way to polish this off in no time. Apparently, these days, Charlie had taken to spending all the money he had from his dragon training on… things that he didn't want. How totally normal and not useless at all!

"Yes?" Charlie asked, and then ended up getting buried underneath three gigantic chocolate cauldron cakes. What? They were about thirty percent off. Pity Charlie bloody hated chocolate with a passion.

Yes. He went to a chocolate shop and bought _KILOS_ worth of chocolate even though he though he _hated_ it.

Percy smiled weakly, and then picked up the chocolate cauldrons off his table. Percy helped Charlie up. Charlie flushed as he pulled himself up using Percy's hands. "Are you alright?" Percy asked.

Charlie sighed deeply. "Perce, for fuck's sake… can you focus on _you_ for just about one second?" he didn't mean to come off as annoying, but he felt like Percy diverted the attention from his self all the damn time. It was getting almost unnerving. "I recall that you used to not be able to shut up about yourself."

Percy's ears reddened, and he winced like he'd been slapped. "Yes, well…" he rubbed his arm. "I…"

Charlie's heart skipped a beat. He'd been waiting for Percy to say something for _ages_ now. Maybe now, he would finally say _something,_ and Charlie could stop feeling like a useless waste of misaligned neurons. And their family could be alright again. If he'd just bloody say _SOMETHING_ —

"Well, of course I couldn't shut up!" Percy looked nervous. That was not a good sign. "I had something to talk about. Mind you, I used to write intensive reports on cauldron bottoms, not… not… _CHOCOLATE_ cauldron _CAKE_ bottoms!"

Percy looked drowsy. How the hell was that possible? He already slept more than most flobberworms!

Charlie didn't notice he was balling his hands into fists. _"I don't want you to talk about bloody chocolate—"_

" _WELL!_ I… I… _OF COURSE I WILL_ … just… _LEAVE!"_ Percy's face was becoming worryingly pale. "But I hope you manage to deal with your cauldron cakes by yourself! I would help but I have a worrying headache induced by… well… I think from withdrawal from Hermes for too long. I think I am too used to that owl! Bloody hilarious, right?"

Percy was seriously nervous, and he was speaking in gibberish—or Elvish. Charlie couldn't tell the difference.

Charlie felt so frustrated. He almost wanted to tell Percy to bugger off because of how annoyed he was. Percy was so _resilient_ —he never told them _anything_ and then expected them to know exactly what was wrong!

Percy nodded his head. "Yes, I will go lie down," he said. "And sleep."

Charlie tried to hide his annoyance with that statement. _And sleep!_ Like he needed anymore _sleep!_

That night, Charlie didn't know what to exactly do with himself. He'd run out of things to do. He'd taken a longer shower than usual and was sat in his bed, ignoring the multiple different editions of _The Daily Prophet_. He'd circled a few boring job opportunities that he _might_ be qualified for! What a stupid joke! Charlie had an interview to be a crup breeding a few weeks from now… pity he had to somehow find himself a crup breeding licence before!

He slammed his fists into his bed... how bloody unfair!

Sometimes, he wanted to blame Percy for the fact that they were in this place. Did that make any sense? Besides the weight loss, it wasn't like Percy was very forthcoming on anything! If he'd have told just anyone that he'd been feeling sad, they'd have bloody done something about it! Instead, he just stood there and took it until it bloody mucked him up in the head… Charlie gritted his teeth in fury. And now, they were waiting for _Percy_ to bear his soul to them, and the bloody door was shut so tight that poor Curse Breaker Bill couldn't even begin to pry it open!

Charlie sat up on his bed, feeling particularly empty. His mind went back to the elixirs he had in the—

He could just have one. Just one, a small one. Yes, yes, he was going to… no… _what did it bloody matter?_

Charlie's thoughts were interrupted when Percy walked into the room.

"Hello," Percy said, looking at Charlie with a soft expression on his face. He walked over to him, and then sat down on the edge of the bed, like Charlie had invited him in. Funny. Charlie always thought Percy was so _proper_.

"Hey," Charlie replied in a very calm voice. Okay, it could be a little calmer, but it wasn't _that_ bad.

"Charlie, I—" Percy began talking in that matter-of-fact voice that had as much emotion as a rock and Charlie _broke_.

 _"Stop talking,"_ Charlie said, and Percy immediately stopped talking. "Alright?"

Percy opened his mouth to reply, but then slowly nodded his head.

After about two seconds of silence and Charlie telling himself to calm down before he did something stupid or said something stupid to Percy that he'd never forgive himself for… he spoke. He was not being very nice.

"Let me tell you from now on, Perce, that no matter what you're going to say, I'm not going to tell you about why _I_ started fucking potion abusing," Charlie noticed Percy was not shocked at Charlie lashing back at him. " _I'm_ not going to tell you about how sad and lonely I felt after Fred's death. And I'm _SICK_ of you asking questions about it!"

Percy smiled weakly. "That's funny," he cleared his throat. " _I_ say the same thing to you, but you don't seem to listen."

Charlie was surprised at this. His first response was to defend himself but in all honestly… he couldn't.

"I'm worried about you," Percy admitted, and Charlie snorted. That was hilarious!

This time, Percy stood up from where he was sat at and turned to leave. But just before he left, he turned to look at Charlie with a look that… well, Charlie couldn't explain it but that look made him feel so sad. Because Percy looked really bloody _torn…_ like he was alone, and he didn't know _who to talk to!_ How comical! Charlie didn't bloody understand that, since they'd been asking Percy to talk since he woke up after the treatment room!

But seeing that look crushed him on the inside nonetheless. Because it told him he was _obviously doing something wrong!_

"You're getting extremely temperamental and that is _not_ like you," Percy explained in a very soft voice, and Charlie was about to open his mouth to defend himself before he… realised that he normally wouldn't be trying to defend himself at all. "I understand that you do not want to talk about it. However, if _I'm_ giving you grief and _you're_ giving me grief, then we are both going to continue to be miserable. And _someone_ is going to have to break the dam, and if you are waiting for _me_ to analyse what is the best way is to do so and reads books about a social skill that I have not yet developed, then I'd be long dead before we could have that chat."

Charlie did not know why Percy's words struck him so deeply. It was probably because Charlie knew this was Percy's form of _begging_ for someone to _listen_ to him.

"Do you understand?" Percy asked softly, and Charlie looked at him. He was _pleading!_ How could Charlie say no?

Charlie's face softened up dramatically and he placed a hand on Percy's shoulder. No matter how often he saw Percy, no matter how long it had passed, he was still so shocked at how small he was. "I'm sorry, Perce."

"It's alright," Percy replied, and Charlie only felt guilty now. He felt like Percy had been trying to tell him that _one thing_ for ages now. It finally percolated through Charlie's head that they were in this convoluted situation where Percy wanted them to talk about it, and they wanted Percy to instead. But Percy didn't know _how_ to and that was what he'd been trying to get at all along with his constant bombardment of _I'm fine_ 's and _no, I do not want to talk about it_.

To Percy, this was like Ron having to repeat his O.W.L's! He had to breakdown the situation like he usually dissected a Victoria Sponge, analyse the implications of everyone's statements and his own and consider the situation very carefully with the hope that he didn't accidentally say something he didn't want to say. Merlin forbid that he said something meaningless that people would remember after he'd died in a few months' time! All that preparation, and mental essay writing work would be so extremely _tiring_ —and Percy didn't have the will to do any of it! He found it pointless and now that Charlie was thinking about it, it _DID_ feel pointless putting the bloke that was _DYING_ under that kind of pressure!

Charlie never thought of it like that before… it drained all of his energy just thinking about it how much work Percy put into _BEING_ Percy. He had this barrier that he perfected himself since he'd been a wee lad. Did they _really_ want to find a way to break that all down in a few months' time? _What after?_

Were they allowed to ask Percy to tear down what he'd been painting and building for _YEARS?_ As if it meant _nothing?_

Why did Percy want to be remembered in this very specific way? What was _there_ behind that façade of fineness and apathy that he wanted to continue to propel? Maybe this was Charlie's punishment. Maybe they would die without knowing what Percy _really_ felt like and what he _really_ thought about things… and Percy came to this point in his existence where he felt like such things were better left unsaid. That his very quintessence _tainted_ his brush of precision. Mind you, Percy had been touching up his canvas for ages now…

Charlie also realised that they'd bloody already wasted a month from running around like gnomes in the garden on a Saturday morning but knowing this, _things just_ _made so much sense_.

"Do you understand now?" Percy asked, and Charlie felt like he just woke up from a nightmare.

Charlie nodded his head. He didn't feel so good anymore.

"Now, would you please communicate what you just learned to the people downstairs?" Percy suddenly sounded so agitated. Charlie wondered if it was because it took him _so long_ to get through to someone. No wonder he was asleep all the damn time. "Because _I_ am exhausted of trying to explain it to them!"

Charlie nodded his head. He wrapped his arms around Percy for a moment and felt destroyed when he felt Percy crumble into his arms. Charlie honestly felt so ruined, stood there holding Percy who was _sobbing_ into his arms.

"It is not particularly fair!" Percy told him. "I spent ages trying to—… Merlin, _I'm_ not even sure what I said for you to understand what I had been trying to get at all along! But it wasn't supposed to take this long!"

Charlie didn't even know how to explain to the rest of his family what Percy just told him.

"It's okay, Perce," Charlie told him very softly as Percy sniffled and wept. "I got you."

Charlie tried to think about what they were supposed to do for Percy now. Two months and a half of life was hardly anything to write home about. But maybe he could make it something spectacular. He knew Percy said he had a bucket list, and Charlie didn't know what he had in mind but maybe he could help. Maybe the next two months were going to feel like two decades. Maybe it'll feel like two minutes, and then he'd be cradling a dead Percy into his arms in what felt like seconds... Merlin, Percy really was a painting. Nobody took sight of _why_ paintings was made that way until the artist was dead anyway.

He realised he hadn't heard Percy's sobs in a while and looked down to notice that Percy fell asleep on him! Charlie slowly picked Percy up from him and laid him down on the bed as soundlessly as possible…

 _CRASH!_ Charlie's heart jolted when he heard something outside.

He poked his head out only to see George on the floor, and their lamp—which used to be on the table now on the ground, with the carpet misaligned. George was sat on his bum, nursing his head.

"Charlie, I think I need new shoes," George told him, gesturing towards his old, tattered plimsolls covered in spello-tape. Merlin! George didn't need new shoes. He needed a bloody life coach.

Charlie laughed and pulled George up from where he was at.

"Georgie, are you feeling okay?" Charlie asked. He hadn't asked George that in ages.

George was surprised at the question but looked to be really thinking about it. And then he smiled—a real, genuine smile that made Charlie's heart melt like cheap chocolates in his hand. Merlin, _why_ did he buy five kilos' worth of chocolate? All he knew at the back of his mind was that it probably had something to do with the fact that Fred had a chocolate allergy (but George didn't— _the chocolate fiend!_ ), so they never had it round the house.

"Yeah," George's voice broke Charlie out of his thoughts. "Is it weird if I say I am? I mean… _I shouldn't be_ but—"

"Good," Charlie cut him off, and they shared a smile together.

Charlie had only begun to understand how much his family— _and he himself_ —had changed since Fred died! They were strangers now... but… Charlie decided that it was okay. He'd always liked meeting new people anyway!


	26. Chapter 26

_a Bill centric chapter. the next chapter is a Percy centric one and it involves Percy recalling what happens in the night when Bill drops by (at the end of the chapter) where Bill mentions that he's spent the night with Percy. i know i updated super soon since my last update! i actually bothered to edit this chapter._

 ** _comment replies:_**

 _ **finkles89** : thank you! i'm so glad you enjoyed the Charlie-centric chapter. it was hard to write the Percy/Charlie parts weirdly enough. :) _

_**Grin like the Cheshire Cat** : i'm so glad i had a 'cute' chapter... especially after all that angst. ;)_

 _ **Phoenixx Rising** : i love Charlie in this story too. i feel like he doesn't fall into the traps of the other brothers in this fanfiction, so it keeps him relatively level-headed. yikes, his thoughts are super dark. even writing him i felt like 'Charlie! you need help for this!'. _

_**SkyeMoor** : in tears? at work? not a very good combination! oops! i hope you read this chapter at home! though i'm not sure if this one is tear-inducing... _

_i forgot to mention! please vote on my poll, as i have six new Percy ideas in my mind to do :) that from those six ideas, i also want to do an abusive relationship plotline with Percy and Penelope. i feel like they're all either a man abusing a woman, or Percy being abused by another man or pure child / abuse in the home. i thought it'll be interesting if i did a fanfiction about Penelope abusing Percy, without hopefully falling into the cliche traps of an abusive relationship. it's a delicate subject, but everyone i've asked thus far about it told me i should most definitely do it because people don't. i just worry about how it comes off!_

* * *

 **Love and Old Black Shoes**

Chapter Twenty-Six

* * *

It was one of those sweet sunny mornings where the sunlight peered through the smallest crevasses in the house and illuminated their little home with beams of joy. Bill was balancing a quill in one hand, and a tired Victoire in another. He'd been trying to finish this stupid documents Gringott's had been hounding him about for weeks now!

Charlie was sitting opposite to him, chattering on about Percy for the last twenty minutes.

Bill slowly nodded his head as Charlie spoke, interrupting him once because Victoire started crying and needed her nappy changed. Oh, and he had to interrupt him once more to make sure that his crumpets didn't burn. Of course, he then had to smear those crumpets with egregious amount of margarine and jam. But it wasn't like Charlie didn't help himself. He also was making coffee using his new wizarding coffee machine that he'd never used before! But it wasn't like anything could go wrong!

Oh! Bill nearly forgot! There was also a moment where he had to make sure that his owl hadn't been playing with fire— _again_ … but other than that, it was an intense, uninterrupted conversation and Bill heard every single word of it!

"You haven't listened to a word I said, have you?" Charlie asked after he was done making his point.

Bill went red. "Well, I—" he listened to the _first part!_ Sort of! And he knew the conversation was about _Percy!_

Charlie rolled his eyes, but _then_ … he ate a crumpet! So, he couldn't be all that mad. "Bill, I—!"

"No talking with your mouth full," Bill immediately replied, feeling his cheeks redden even more. Fleur was getting to him. He was becoming father-ified. He was boring, old, bought less noticeable ear-piercings and he was smelling things that weren't there! He swore that he could smell something burning. But… what if it was? Oh, _that ruddy owl was probably near the fire again!_ Bill was going to kill that blasted thing and get it stuffed!

"Bill, I think that—" Charlie was cut off as Bill abruptly stood up when Fleur walked in.

"What is zat smell?!" Fleur said, her veela charm wasn't so potent with _that_ bed hair.

"It's probably Charlie!" Bill pointed towards his little brother, who always smelled like he was burning anyway! Charlie looked offended, but then he looked disgusted when he had a whiff of his armpit. "He only showers in lakes."

"And not every day," Charlie replied. _"HEY!"_ he realised that Bill just insulted him again.

Fleur didn't seem to care if Charlie was combusting, or if he had a deadly infection from the lake. " _TAKE… VICTOIRE… OUT!"_ she waved her arms around dramatically. Bill never realised he'd married his mother until now.

Bill shook his head sternly. "Well, I thought chapter thirty-two of our book said that she is _still_ not accustomed to her home and shouldn't be out frolicking about in parts of London that she wouldn't—"

 _BOOM!_

The coffee that he'd forgotten he'd put into the new magical coffee maker just _exploded_ , sending bits of foam, chocolate powder and chocolate syrup all over the room. Fleur shrieked and started yelling at him in French. After this long, of course, Bill knew a _little_ bit of French. Well, he knew all the swear words—and Merlin, she had a tongue on her for a lady such as herself! Bill bet that the blokes that were lusting over her at the Yule Ball would be shocked!

 _Though some might be mildly aroused_ , Bill thought, completely disturbed at the thought.

Charlie, now covered in milk foam, choked on the milk. His freckles dusted by chocolate powder.

"I don't know what you said," he told Fleur, "But I'm glad you said it!" She said an _hmmph_ and walked upstairs.

"Well, I heard _that_ ," although Bill wished he could _unhear_ what Fleur just told him. "Does that count?"

Charlie was not amused. "No, it doesn't count! Oi, I thought coming here was going to be a nice, clean break from what George has been experimenting about in the Burrow nowadays! Nearly made me die of frostbite yesterday after he made me try his new Frozen Olaf ice-cream! I'm not sure where the blasted arsehole got that name from, but I _still_ can't feel my toes! But _YOU_ lot are more dangerous than an Antipodean Opaleye that doesn't want to be bothered during her pregnancy!" Charlie told Bill, looking down at his robes—which were soaked in chunks of milk chocolate and dark chocolate sauce. " _AND_ I still bloody hate chocolate! Merlin… I feel so, _SO TAINTED!"_

Bill felt _so tainted_ accidentally catching fifteen-year-old Charlie shagging off with a seventh-year Hufflepuff that probably looked like an Antipodean Opaleye and all… he'd never seen a woman with scales before!

 _"OKAY!"_ Charlie yelled out. "So, what _I WANTED TO SAY WAS THAT_ Percy doesn't want to go to therapy anymore. He wants _US_ to go to therapy instead because he thinks that _we_ will benefit more—well, at least mum would because she's acting like he's already dead which doesn't sound very healthy. Nobody didn't like the idea of it because— _well_ —Percy tried to kill himself by torture so _of course_ he needs therapy since most other people do not try to turn themselves into the consistency of a dulce de leche doughnut— _have you tried one of those? There's a shop in Diagon Alley and they're bloody amazing—_ but… well… I just came to this wonderful conclusion that it's hard for Percy to keep the façade of well… being Percy. And maybe _he_ doesn't want to discard what he's been building for ages just so we don't feel bad about the fact that we totally missed the mark with him!"

Charlie wondered if Bill followed any of that.

Bill just cocked his head to one side. "Where in Diagon Alley can I find those doughnuts?" and Charlie just gave him a look. "What? Believe it or not, _your epiphany_ , Charlie, is not as shocking as you want it to believe!"

"You figured this out on your own?" Charlie seemed surprised, but also suspicious. " _YOU BLOODY BASTARD!_ Why didn't you want to share that with us instead of—"

"Merlin, of course he doesn't want to go to therapy! I thought that was bloody obvious! Last three times he went, he was such a state after! And I was against that bloody thing in the first place—if he wants to let us know about that rubbish, he would, but it's bloody cruel to have him _talk about it when he's got TWO MONTHS TO LIVE!"_ Bill rationalised to Charlie, who was pretending that he wasn't that daft that he couldn't figure that out on his own ages ago. _"THE LEAST_ we can do is let him pick what he wants to do in that bloody time!"

Victoire was crying now. She was not happy anymore. There were no more exploding coffee machines.

"Just be lucky that when I get my new crup breeding job, I'm not going to tell them I've got the perfect little pup at home—comes with his own jewellery in case he ever gets lost!" Charlie was obviously extremely annoyed.

Bill found himself smirking as he pulled Victoire towards Charlie so that she could try and scoop up some of the chocolate seeping off Charlie's face. She sucked on her fingers, content.

Charlie tried to rub off the chocolate powder on his face. If Fred was in Charlie's place, he'd be dead… _again_.

 _Is_ that _the best you could do?_ Fred said in Bill's head. The thought made him smile... Bill hadn't had a thought with Fred that made him smile in ages. _Very funny, Bill! Real comedy! Laughed myself to death! I'm positively rolling in my grave!_

"They give out crup breeding licences to anyone, do they?" Bill asked, as Charlie continued to try the powder off.

Victoire was excited, bubbly in his arms and very energetic. She was waving her arms out everywhere, making bubbles with her salvia! Maybe being covered in milk foam and Honeyduke's 50% dark chocolate was worth it after all.

It reminded Bill to set aside a little Honeyduke's half-off organic chocolate syrup for Victoire later. She refused to take Fleur's breast. She'd been keeping them awake at night because of how hungry she was but refused all kind of milk preparations. The only way she'd take Fleur's milk was if it was mixed with chocolate. Unfortunately, Honeyduke's original chocolate syrup was _full_ of cheap Potion ingredients to help bulk them up! So, Bill had to shell out what was essentially an arm and a leg just to buy her an organic chocolate syrup bottle! _Shipped from bloody Peru!_

Bill was feeling a little better. He had to go to therapy himself now and told Fleur to keep Victoire to herself every now and then. He'd been forced to keep a journal regarding how he felt like with the lunar cycle. He felt his worst when the moon was full and heavy. He slept in a separate room, and usually woke up to find out he'd bitten his pillows off in pieces. He was in a constant delirium and his stomach felt full and bloated for days afterwards.

Pillows didn't bode well with his digestion after all!

Taking the Wolfsbane didn't seem to help at all, since he wasn't a real werewolf. He'd been working through a bunch of other potions that were used for blokes with his problem. He sometimes woke up at night with this sudden, debilitating paralysing fear. He sat by, cold and clammy with his heart beating out of his ears. He thought he was going to die, as his chest tightened and the whole world around him seemed like it was a billion miles away. Fleur would tell him to go back to sleep, and Bill would yell at her. He could feel something cold and heavy in his hands when he woke up at night. He remembered that feeling when he'd carried Percy— _cold, wet, bony Percy_. Bill sometimes spat out his jam when he was in the middle of eating his crumpets, and all he could see was sweet gelatinous blood. He sometimes yelled at Fleur, but he was not sure what about or _why_. At night, he sometimes heard something being sewn, and he had nightmares of Percy's skull splitting in halves. Crunching beneath his fingers, like a bowl of puffed rice covered in sweet strawberry jam. Bill sometimes saw in his hands when he was washing them with warm water, remembering how it felt like when he'd had Percy's blood pooling into his hands. By the _cupful_.

After Charlie's visit, Bill though to visit the Burrow that night to have a little chat with Percy.

He'd not actually really talked to Percy since after he'd found him, but _he knew he had to!_ Bill was actively avoiding it, because he couldn't get that thought that the second he would look at Percy, he'd unravel into thin white little threads covering thin porous bones. He kept on wondering if Percy's live, beating heart would suddenly burst out of his chest the second that Bill laid eyes on him. Seeing him in therapy was one of the most difficult thing that Bill had done. He was bloody terrified of being anywhere near the Burrow, and the thought of even stepping foot in _Percy's room_ or seeing _that fat ruddy owl_ gave Bill panic attacks that made him think that he was seconds awake from snuffing it himself!

Bill didn't know how he managed to make it to the Burrow that day. He was underneath a great host of potions and was absolutely bricking it. He felt like he was suffocating and there wasn't enough air in the room.

"Perce?" Bill walked inside the house, his voice so soft that it was a whisper. His hands were shaking.

 _He was going to bloody faint he was going to bloody faint and make a fool of himself or he was going to bloody faint and die and Fleur would never forgive him when it was HIS turn to change Victoire's nappies today—_

"William?" Percy's voice was soft, and Bill nearly jolted out of his skin when he heard it.

Bill turned around and was surprised to see that Percy was intact. He had more layers on him than one of their mother's trifles, and Bill was sure that Percy was wearing one of the smallest tops that Bill owned. How was it so bloody massive? Bill wore that jumper all the time before! It never used to be like _that!_

"You look peaky, are you alright?" Percy inched closer and Bill didn't even notice he was inching backwards until he hit his head back at the Weasley family clock. Percy raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, I'm doing… bloody great!" Bill replied, and then he turned even whiter. "Well— _NOT_ bloody."

He was shaking like a bloke being thrashed around by a Whomping Willow.

"I _hope_ not bloody," Bill mumbled to himself and Percy was glaring at him like he was speaking in Elvish. Well, not Elvish. Percy was probably one of the few people in the world that actually bothered to learn how to speak it!

"Yes! Well…" Percy crossed his arms over his chest, rocking on the balls of his feet. "Err…"

"Are you alright?" Bill asked, feeling jumpy. "I mean… you, too, look… peaky… and-and… _err… err_ … skeleton-y."

Percy did not look like he appreciated the comment. " _I'm_ perfectly fine, you faltering twat," he seemed to not like being told that he looked like a crup's plaything. Maybe Charlie could take him down to his new crup breeding job!

Bill reached over to grab Percy's face, and felt uneasy even though he could obviously tell that Percy was _okay_.

"What in Godric's name are you doing?" Percy asked him, looking even more agitated. When did Percy get so testy? "William, are you having a mental breakdown at one o'clock in the afternoon?" _Yes_ , just in time for tea!

"Um… um…" Bill was not sure what he was having at one in the afternoon. "You're very thin."

Percy gawked at him. " _Yes_ , I am aware," he sounded uninspired. "I also have red hair. I'm not sure if you noticed. And there are these things on my face… they look like dragon pox, but apparently, I've been born with them."

Bill was sure Percy was _disintegrating_ right in front of his very eyes. How could someone be so _small?_

Oh, and the fact that Percy could literally die from potion poisoning at any second didn't give him much comfort. The thought of Percy crumbling before him, into skin, clotted blood, and thin layers of cold, clammy skin made him feel sick. He didn't know how Skeleton Percy was alive. He felt like Percy was just an Inferius sometimes, wearing a human coat stretched over his tiny little bones. Bill bet that he could crush Percy just by looking at him for too long.

This feeling was very hard for him to stomach—even harder to stomach than Fleur's cooking.

"Did you visit for a reason or just to tell me that _I'm thin?"_ Percy broke Bill out of his trance. "Thank you for letting me know, by the way. I'm sure you've noticed, but nobody's ever bothered to tell me _that!"_

Percy's irritation was obvious enough. Being told that he looked thin enough to die was practically as routine as brushing his teeth for him at this point. Pity that eating was _still_ not a very routine thing for him anymore!

Bill slowly nodded his head. "I thought to…" his voice was soft. "I thought that I could explain… the letters to you."

 _"What letters?"_ Percy reiterated. "I've not received any—"

"The letters. About the _job_ ," Bill tried to remind Percy, who seemed to have forgotten.

Percy didn't say anything after that, but eyed Bill suspiciously.

"The letters they sent to Death Eaters after the war, so they don't get jobs above minimum wage— _if that?"_ Bill reminded Percy. "The jobs that you've had that made you able to pay for a two-sickle hot chocolate every month but nothing else? The letter that made you get a job in an unauthorised tattoo parlour? The letter that made you have to walk round selling half-off robes that made you scratch yourself like a Kneazle in heat?"

Percy looked down at his feet, like he hadn't really thought about it. Bill found _that_ hard to believe. Percy, he who once bothered Bill to death because he'd written a false fact in one of his old Potions textbooks!

"Does _that_ ring a bell?" Bill smiled weakly. "The letters?"

Percy didn't say anything to that. His facial expression softened, and he didn't meet Bill's eyes anymore.

"Oh… _those_ letters," Percy's voice was soft.

Bill cleared his throat, rubbing his neck. "Yes, I thought that maybe… maybe you'd want to know how I'd managed to send a Ministry official letter," he offered an even weaker smile. "And it was—it wasn't right. But…but I was owed a favour from the bloke that drafts them. Because it's not the Minister that does, but this other bloke that does. Well… as I already said, he owes me a favour. I had the idea right after—after Charlie told me that some of his mates received similar letters from the Romanian government. Forced them to stay at home!"

Bill wished he could go back in time just to call himself a bloody twat. _"Funny... isn't it?"_

 _You're ruddy awful at this joke telling business!_ His inner Fred couldn't comfort him at this time. _Leave it to the professionals! Stick to what you know, Bill—buying half-off earrings banned from the Egyptian government for causing adverse skin reactions!_

Percy wasn't laughing. His lips were pursed very tightly.

"Yes," Percy said stiffly. "Absolutely hilarious," he then passed by Bill to go to the kitchen.

Bill's heart practically jolted out of his chest when he noticed how sad Percy seemed. This felt so uncharacteristic of him! Percy usually showed about as much emotion as Hagrid's rock cakes! Bill swallowed the lump in his throat (oddly not a rock cake) and followed Percy right into the kitchen. Bill watched Percy grabbed a little white mug off the shelf of other little white, discounted mugs. Bill felt more at ease given that Molly was inside as well, sat on the kitchen table reading one of those romantic comedy novels she loved so much.

 _"Bill!"_ Molly folded the corner of the page and then closed her book. She was mostly done with it. Well, Percy had to have gotten his speedy book-reading abilities from somewhere and it certainly wasn't their father—the bloke still hadn't answered the owl that Bill sent him a year ago about what would happen if he knocked Fleur up! Apparently now, Bill knew that pregnant woman tended to have these little things called _babies_. "I didn't expect to see you today! How are you? How's Fleur? _And little Victoire?_ Oh Merlin, it's been some time since I've last seen her!"

"Everything's fine, mum," but his eyes were locked onto Percy. "Oh, and Fleur set my wardrobe on fire yesterday. Told me that much dragonhide is going to cause Victoire an allergic reaction at some point."

Charlie was bloody ecstatic when he heard that. Bill was not… did you know how bloody _expensive_ dragonhide was?

"Oh, that's nice to hear! I'm hoping Fleur gets you to cut your hair too—I'm not sure how this has anything to do with handling Victoire but I trust Fleur to find a way to mention it! Did you know that it's been a little hectic here in the Burrow recently?" Molly said energetically. She seemed more like herself than usual. It was nice to see her genuinely happy. "George came back recently just to make more inventions to take back to his shop! And well… Charlie's supposed to start his new job today as a crup breeder! I really hope he likes it! _At least_ crups don't breed fire!"

"Some species do," Percy replied automatically from where he was standing. "And dragons don't have rabies."

"Come off it!" Molly told Percy, who just smiled as he made himself a cup of coffee.

Molly was not convinced that breeding a few crups was as dangerous as _taming dragons_. Percy looked like he wanted to write an essay disproving this. Maybe it was the dragon tamer inside Percy—well… Bill didn't think that there could be much inside Percy. He had a hard time digestion the fact that Percy had internal organs in that body suit of his!

They didn't say anything after that. At least not for a few minutes.

Not being able to stand the silence, Bill walked towards Percy and stared at his brother for a little while. He could've sworn that Percy's thin hair was thicker just a few days ago! He was not this grey either a few days ago. And when did his glasses become even more comically large on his face? He looked like he was a clothing hanger advertising the second-hand jumper that he was wearing. Just looking at Percy's hair made Bill want to chug down a couple of phials of _Ever Growing Hair Formula for Males… Hair Bigger than Your Erections!_

Bill tentatively reached out and placed a hand on Percy's shoulder. The scent of coffee filled the air. The kitchen looked nice now! He liked how Molly managed to organise all the biscuit tins. She hadn't done that in years. With a war brewing about, it was hard to care about whether the bourbon biscuit tin was next to the curry species!

"Perce?" Bill's voice was very soft.

He noticed Percy's grip on the mug handle was so tight his knuckles went white.

In an even softer voice, Bill reiterated, "Percy?" he let a few seconds pass. "Are you—?"

 _"What do you want?"_ Percy suddenly said, his voice acerbic and cold. His eyes were shining, light coloured orbs that looked like they were in so much pain. "You've told me now! Isn't that why _you've_ come over?"

Bill noticed how Percy's chest was falling up and down, his cheeks sunken and his hands suddenly looked ten times smaller than they were. The more Bill stared at him, the more he felt like he was just about to disappear forever.

"Do you have something else to say, William?" Percy asked. Coffee was sloshing about from the rim of Percy's mug.

"Told him _what?"_ Molly looked at Bill suspiciously. _"What've you told him?"_

Bill didn't notice how cold and clammy his hands became. He was too busy trying to assess the situation. Too bad his heart was beating so loudly into his ears that he could barely hear. He felt like he needed to sit down from how lightheaded he'd become. _Was he having a heart attack?_ Bill wasn't sure, but he wasn't in the kitchen at the Burrow. He was in his own head, somewhere thick and misty and he couldn't possibly break free of these invisible thick, constricting bands that were contorting his body into this tight space.

"Oh, it's absolutely nothing," Percy told their mum, and then turned to leave the room. "It _never_ is!"

"What did you tell him?" Molly asked the second that Percy was gone, her voice softer this time.

Bill explained things to her the best he could.

His voice was very soft, and his mother made him a cup of tea. They ate large slices of cake together with cream in them. Bill felt his stomach flip the more he ate. His mother soothingly told him that it was going to be alright, and that Percy was just not in the best mood these days.

"Really?" Bill was surprised to hear that. "What's happened?"

" _I'm_ not really sure," Molly replied, her voice just as soft. "He's been trying to pick rows with just about anyone!"

 _"Percy?"_ Bill couldn't imagine Percy yelling anymore—unless it involved a heated discussion about the definition of a Quaffle. Percy had been relatively soft-spoken recently. It was eerily out of character. Usually, he wouldn't shut up but ever since Fred's death, he'd been very quiet. He barely talked about himself these days.

"Of course, it doesn't matter what he says," Molly told Bill. Obviously, she didn't want him to worry. "He told Ron that he thinks that Harry's the biggest crockpot he'd ever met, and all Ron's done is ask me if he's alright! Ginny's wondered if Percy's due for a mental breakdown… asked me if any of us said anything that might've made me him feel so insecure! Ron told me last night that with all the bollocks we'd been doing before Percy's suicide attempt, that he deserves the lash out! He feels less guilty with Percy rattling on about how he thinks that Ron is a useless, soulless alcoholic! Oh, and Percy told me that for someone that's supposed to keep the house under control, I'm doing a poor job of it… all because I've fallen asleep in the afternoon and I'd forgotten to dust the shelves upstairs!"

Bill was surprised to hear this. "Mum, he doesn't mean it." _Why in Merlin's name would Percy say something like that?_

At the same time, Bill could understand Ron's point too. He was feeling less guilty about the letter debacle already just because Percy lashed out to him about it! He wanted Percy to be angry at him for it because Bill was _sick_ of hating himself for it and doing absolutely nothing productive or helpful about it!

"I know he doesn't mean it," Molly was convinced that there was something terribly wrong. " _I'm_ worried about _him_."

Bill didn't know how to feel about this. "I'm worried about him too."

In fact, Bill was so worried about Percy that his concern only got worse over the next week.

He visited the Burrow every few days just to make sure the ceiling was still intact, and the world didn't crumble. During the last few visits, Percy's hostility was getting unexplainable, and Bill wondered if he'd said something that might've pushed Percy over the edge. When he visited, he noticed how the Burrow had been practically walking on eggshells around him, trying _not_ to say anything that might make him feel more irritated than he already did.

Five days ago, Percy got irritated when Arthur asked him if he was alright.

"Muck off, old man," Percy told Arthur, red-faced with unkempt curls flying in all directions. Percy never looked dishevelled but he was starting to look shabbier by the day! "Don't you have _anything_ productive to do instead of asking me about my feelings? Did you lose your precious muggle toys?" he asked. Usually, he'd be standing all by himself with an irritated facial expression. He might as well have _PROCEED WITH CAUTION_ stamped on his face.

All he needed was a couple of Pepper-Up potions for the steam-out-of-ears effect and he'd be good to go!

There was that one time that Percy nearly broke the biscuit tin when Ron offered him a custard cream after dinner.

At that point in time, Percy's now dishevelled appearance peaked to an unPercy-like standard. Instead of his trousers being crumpled and his jumper cleaned only once instead of three or four consequence times, his clothes had _holes_ in them, and his shoes looked _dirty_. His ears and hands were covered in mud and dirt. His hair looked greasier than a plate at Yuri Yum-Yum Chinese Takeaway. He looked like something the Kneazle fainted whilst trying to drag in!

"Sod your biscuits," Percy mumbled when Ron offered him a biscuit. "You should choke on them instead."

When Percy passed by Ron, he looked over at their mum with a perplexed facial expression and asked if he'd done something wrong. Bill wanted to mention that Percy didn't actually _like_ custard creams… but _that_ didn't explain why Percy told Ron to go choke on the ruddy biscuits now, did it!

"No, honey," Molly said, rubbing Ron's shoulder. "You know how Percy's like these days!"

 _These days_. Bill reiterated in his head. He didn't know how long it had been going on, but apparently, it had been a few weeks! Molly mentioned that they'd been afraid to mention it towards any of the healers when they took Percy to his appointments because they didn't want to put Percy in a right mood... honestly, Bill thought it was only a matter of time before Percy said that he didn't want to go to anymore appointments anymore either!

"Ron," Bill went over to him after he made sure that Percy wasn't around them. "Are you alright?"

Ron brushed off that comment like it was nothing. He plopped one of the custard creams into his mouth and chewed. "He's getting more creative I'll give you that. Yesterday, he smacked me with one of George's socks. I still can't smell that well… and my eyes still water when I blink!" ah! So _that_ explained why Ron smelled like a dungbomb gone off!

Bill smiled weakly. "Are you really alright?" Ron just nodded his head again.

"If I tell you I'm not, does this mean that you'll give me a few Galleons?" Ron perked up. "For not being alright? Like a gift so I could be alright again? Well, in that case, I'm really not alright. I've been feeling so unlike myself… yesterday, I even bothered to look through my old _History of Magic_ notes… _for fun!"_

If Ron did that, they'd be in the emergency department of St Mungo's right now. Having his head examined for any long-term damage from Percy's unsolicited sock smacking!

Honestly, Bill was shocked by how patient his family was around Percy. Nobody lashed back at him. Nobody said anything to him that could upset him. Mind you, Percy did not run around, screeching about how unhappy he was like George used to do. But if anyone approached him—and everyone in the Burrow _did_ just to make sure that Percy was fine, especially because he was barely talking in his own healer's appointments—the conversations would go from light-hearted to cold very quickly. Percy often cut the conversations short and left smack in the middle of them too!

The same night that Percy told Ron to stuff himself with biscuits until he imploded like the hungry hippogriff he was (yes, he added some more colourful statements after the first confrontation), Charlie took him out one day for a walk to help calm him down… and came back home with a pulsating black eye.

When Molly asked what happened, Charlie mentioned that Percy socked him in eye for no real reason!

They'd been walking along, and suddenly, _Percy just hit him_. Charlie was now trying to remember what he said, but he couldn't remember much of the conversation. Or if there was one at all even!

"I think he bloody well hurt _himself_ , Bill," Charlie said to Bill, who found this very odd behaviour from a bloke that just got hurt. "He couldn't be more than seven stones. I think I shattered his arm when he tried to clock me one!"

"I'm sure… he's… _he's fine?"_ Bill didn't know how to reply. He was more worried about the fact that Charlie's eye was in more shades than the George's new multi-coloured Pygmy Puffs!

But the more time went on, the more terrified that Bill was that one of them was just going to snap at Percy.

Their patience was slowly wearing thin, but no matter how angry his inner wolf counterpart got sometimes, Bill stayed quiet. Even if it meant biting his lip back so hard that he tasted blood. In his nightmares, he violently shook Percy until blood poured out of his eyes and ears… and then he died in his arms. _Bony, bloody Percy!_ If it wasn't for those nightmares, Bill would've had a go at Percy ages ago! But he had a feeling deep inside himself that Percy was acting this way for _a reason_. This was the bloke that blamed _himself_ for his own suicide attempt! How could he lash out at Ron for offering him a custard cream or tell his father that he was still as ambitionless as he always was?

 _What if he's going to try again_? Bill thought. _What if he wanted you to be angry at him so you wouldn't care if he died?_

If that was what Percy was thinking, then Bill was happy that he'd said absolutely nothing incriminating in the past few weeks. He'd gone along and let Percy call him derogatory werewolf terms all he wanted!

 _Bill, you're an unintellectual flea bag that insists on running around with earrings instead of a collar._

 _Charlie should take you to work sometime! Breed with one of your own kind._

 _Stupid tail-wagging Curse Breaker._

Ron was right. Percy was indeed getting more creative with his insults! However, unfortunately, Bill was just not very good at deflecting these comments. They wounded him so much. He felt like such a barbaric animal most of the time around Percy. It didn't help that yesterday, Percy told Molly that they should take Bill to the vet for some _vaccinations!_

On a cold Monday morning, Bill, Arthur and Ron went to Percy's appointment along with him.

Bill had to be a little forced just to be able to drag Percy to this one, because he was too busy sleeping at two in the afternoon. The clinic wasn't even open at this time, but Percy absolutely _REFUSED_ waking up in the morning. Instead, he snapped at Bill and told him that he could go bother Ron if he wanted to go on a walk so badly! Bill's lips were cracked and bleeding, so he resorted to biting the insides of his cheek when Percy made that comment!

"Steady," Ron told Bill, noticing how he was finding it hard to cope with Percy's off-handed comments.

Percy was sat in his pyjamas, curling up in a chair. He'd never been so angry that he'd refused to put on real pants before. Penelope walked into the room and looked surprised seeing Percy glowering at her.

"I'm surprised you managed to tear yourself away from your husband long enough to come by," Percy did not comment on the fact that the office looked like it was run over by a tornado and he should get one of the Ministry's natural disaster teams to look over it (Bill didn't know the official name for it, but Percy would know in a heartbeat!). Instead, Percy sat in the sticky-looking chair with no complaints about the looks of the place! Probably because he hadn't taken a shower in about three days, and quite blatantly refused cleaning charms.

"Percy? Are you alright?" Penelope looked surprised hearing this, but then leaned down to his eyelevel. She grabbed a diagnostic wand, and then pulled it up to his face. "This isn't like you! And _how_ could your hair have this much _GREASE?_ You—you barely have any hair at all! And you absolutely reek!"

Percy grabbed her very expensive diagnostic wand and flung it across the room.

"Percy!" Penelope looked a little irritated with him. "What's wrong with you?"

Percy just crossed his arms and refused to even dignity her question with an answer.

Penelope leaned forward towards Bill, Arthur and Ron, whispering "Someone hold him down, I'll get the wand". Upon this suggestion, Arthur shrivelled up like a prune, Ron looked like he was being asked to commit treason and Bill went white. What did she think they were? _Hold him down?_ Molly would be happy to hear that! 'Mum, Percy's appointment was great! By the way, we held him down when Penelope thrust a wand into one of his orifices!'

"What?" Ron didn't like the sound of this either. "What is he? A bloody crup?"

 _No_ , Bill bitterly thought to himself. _That's apparently me!_

Bill glanced over at the diagnostic wand. A part of him was genuinely worried that there might be something going on with him that they didn't know about, so he just grabbed Percy by his tiny, emaciated arms and held them down to the chair. Ron jumped up from where he was sat at, screeching at him.

 _"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"_ Ron yelled at Bill, and Bill's head pounded. Maybe he was doing something wrong! Maybe he was going to make everything worse! Maybe Percy was going to have him sent to Charlie's crup kernel for a wash and a tranquiliser potion! Bill's head was spinning. _"IF YOU HURT HIM, BILL, I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!"_

Arthur's voice was soft. "Bill, let go of him," he obviously noticed that Percy's arms were getting exceedingly pale as Bill held them down. But what if this was a side effect of the potion poisoning? What if this was something they could fix? What if Percy ate one of George's aggression-inducing glitter bombs and his IQ dropped to _troll?_

Penelope grabbed Percy's face and then pulled up his chin to shine the diagnostic wand at his face. "Hold… still!"

"Muck off, Penelope!" Percy hissed coldly at her. _"AND LET GO OF ME, YOU STUPID DOG!"_

Bill allowed himself to be impressed that throughout the past few days, it hadn't percolated through Percy's mind to use the most _obvious_ doggy insult. The one that referred to a pregnant pup—

Penelope moved her wand away from his face. "Did anyone have a look at him before?"

"No. He wouldn't let them," Bill honestly replied.

 _"YOU BLOODY STUPID BASTARD! RUINED EVERYTHING!"_ Ron yelled at Bill, and Bill looked down to notice that Percy's face was very pale and vulnerable looking. His eyes were glossy and there were tears running down his eyes. He sniffled a little, looking so _broken_. _"I'M TELLING MUM!"_

"When did this happen?" Penelope asked, and then practically sprinted over her desk to look for his files.

"About… about a month ago," Arthur explained. "Maybe more. It started around—"

"Late August?" Penelope offered, and Arthur slowly nodded his head. It was criminal. Percy threw his birthday cake outside the window and refused told Molly that he hated her baking… for no reason. "He started a new potion just a few days prior. I'm pretty sure _that's_ the culprit. My diagnostic wand is suggesting potion-induced irritability, aggression and mood swings… which can be extremely severe if you're taking high dose potions like he is."

Bill felt a sudden relief. Percy's behaviour was just because he was drugged beyond belief… wait, that didn't sound as nice as it did in Bill's head. As Bill tried to think about this, he forgot he was still holding down Percy.

Percy didn't, because that was when Percy decided to _BITE_ him. Merlin, he knew that Percy must hungry with being as small as he was… but-but this took the fat-free cake!

 _"OW!"_ Bill looked down to see Percy glaring at him, with wetness on his face. He shook his head and let go of Percy's arms, which were trembling. His relief suddenly contorted to sadness, because he felt like Percy had such little time to enjoy his life, and he'd spent a bloody month suffering from _a potion's side effect?_ Merlin.

Ron collapsed into laughter.

"What are _you_ laughing at?" Bill asked Ron in annoyance.

Penelope tapered down the potion that Percy was on until he wasn't on it anymore. That took three days.

She'd swapped it to something innocuous but getting Percy to take it required the Burrow to start a third wizarding war. In the end, they just snuck the substitute potion in his tea when he wasn't looking.

Bill had a nightmare that night about how the new innocuous potion was going to make Percy suffocate in his sleep, so he did the most logical thing he could think of… he apparated to the Burrow at around _three in the morning!_

At the time, he had no shoes on, his hair was a mess and the only thing he had to his name was an embarrassing Chudley Canons jumper (belonging to Ron of course. As if Bill would be caught dead in a Chudley Canons jumper in _public_ ). His long, copper-red hair was still greasy with the shelf-full of Madam Primpernelle's products that he put into every night to make sure that it didn't just lie flat against his head… which for the most part, it did.

The house was eerily quiet (well, it _was_ three in the morning) and Bill's heart was racing in his chest.

He was either going to be admitted to the loony bin for being delusional and anxious, or Percy really did suffocate in his sleep. Bill did not know which is worse… he also felt like he might vomit one of his lungs.

With as much caution as Scabbers had when he was spying on Ron and his mates, Bill walked up to Percy's room.

He hadn't been anywhere near that room since he'd seen Percy unravel before his eyes. The closer he was, the fainter he felt. The closer he was, the more he felt his chest tighten and all the air in his lungs suddenly disintegrate, only leaving this hot burning fire in his lungs. His throat felt like it did the first (and only) time he'd ever had an Acid Pop.

When he walked into the room, the room stood still for just a second.

He digested the image before him: a very awake Percy was sat on his bed, adequately engrossed in his journal which he looked to be _DRAWING_ at around _three in the morning!_

Percy… _DRAWING!_ and if he'd walk into George's room, he'd be reading a gigantic book of Ancient Runes!

Percy looked very much focused that he didn't seem to really think much when his owl started screaming bloody murder, or when the wind rustled into the room via the open window. In fact, as Bill felt the coldness of the wind rushing down his stuttering bones, Percy paused for a moment and stuck his face out into the window to feel the cold wind pressing against his face. He smiled in a contentment that Bill didn't know Percy had ever felt.

Bill suddenly remembered how it felt like to have the wind rush into your hair when you were flying a broom and felt the burning sensation in his chest slowly ebb away. "Perce?" his voice was soft.

 _"William?"_ Percy whipped his head so fast that he dropped the pot of ink he had sat on the desk beside his bed.

Bill leaned down and pulled his wand out to siphon the ink off the floor with a _Tergeo_. He put the pot back up and paused when he noticed the drawing that Percy was focusing on. Bill stared at the thin lines that Percy managed to make with such a gigantic quill, strokes that were softer than the paper they lay on, and colours that he thought that Percy didn't know existed. Drops of emerald, ruby and gold encased between beautiful black lines.

Bill was probably staring at it. He realised that his mouth was probably open because Percy was glaring at him.

"If you keep your mouth open like that for any longer, you might catch glumbumbles," Percy said.

"That is absolutely brilliant," Bill honestly felt like his breath had just been taken away. He didn't know Percy could draw like that. He'd been so focused on the brush work he hadn't even noticed that Percy was drawing a phoenix. Merlin, he'd never seen a phoenix look that bloody gorgeous before. "You could be a portrait artist."

"I could if I drank more illegal Romanian elixirs. I already attempted to harm myself, so I suppose that if I produce some wonderful work, then I could die knowing that I'll be known to the wizarding world as a deranged artistic genius that tried to kill himself violently," Percy mumbled as he got up from his bed. "Do you want a biscuit?"

"I'd love one," Bill replied. "As long as they're custard creams of course."

So, he spent the night eating custard creams with Percy and talking about their favourite portrait artists.

That night, Bill finally felt like they could move on from what happened before the suicide, and Bill felt like he could forget every single word Percy had told him in the last few weeks. He wasn't sure why it felt like it was an appropriate time, but he felt very good about it and it was a very nice feeling to know that he felt like he could talk to someone. And although Bill did not talk to Percy about the nightmares keeping him up at night or what Percy felt like after they changed his potions, he felt like it didn't really matter anymore. And he wasn't sure _why_ it didn't matter; it just didn't anymore. Bill didn't know if he was _allowed_ to feel good or happy, but there was something about seeing Percy peer his head out of the window and smiling when that cold air touched his face that made Bill realise what he'd been missing all along. He was not sure _what_ it was exactly, but it was something so _pure_ and innocent that Bill realised how much of his old life he missed. The realisation made things clear and vivid and _new_ again, like he could finally let some of the heavy fog surrounding himself to see something beautiful that had been hiding underneath it all.

Suddenly, there was no suicide attempt, or Fred's death, or that sad, lonely feeling he got at the pit of his stomach every night. Suddenly, it was just them, suspended somewhere in big, shapeless clouds… talking about ink and paint.


	27. Chapter 27

_i spent the last two days spending time on this fanfiction and i can safely say that this will end at around Chapter 29, and then Chapter 30 is an epilogue. i can also safely say something about Percy's fate (imminent death or not) and i don't know if people want to know. there is going to be a huge character breakdown (not just Percy but the whole family) and analysis (not surprising for the people that read Ares) at around Chapter 29._

 ** _comment replies:_**

 _ **finkles89** : i can't really blame them if Percy is going to pick a fight with them every time that they talk to him only because... i think that they're trying to talk to him, but Percy is not being cooperative at all. they are wasting a lot of time, aren't they? i mean by this point, they had 3 1/2 months with Percy, now they have 1!_

 _ **Phoenixx Rising** : it was fun coming up the insults for that! i'm more likely to assume that magical babies either don't have that issue, or Bill is annoyed at the pricing because it does remove the icky stuff from the choco milk. i don't think that Fleur exclusively feeds Victoire chocolate milk though and believes it to be a supplement to breast / bottle feeding first (i feel like Fleur does a combination of both), but i think Bill definitely does. i think he doesn't want to bother himself and straight up feeds her chocolate milk instead of bottled / Fleur's pumped breast milk, but Fleur probably tries with the bottle / breast before and only uses it in smaller doses. Victoire is close to a year so she should be weaned on normal food too, but i also assume wizarding milestones are different than normal baby milestones. i feel like Victoire can already walk, but Bill carries her probably because either he likes to, or because she's very light because she's not gaining enough weight. though the caffeine thing reminded me to look up something! _

_**SkyeMoor** : because i like it to be sad! i loved reading your comments on Ares also. it made me read a couple of chapters because i'd forgotten some of the things i'd written! it makes me happy to read them. :)_

 _thus far most of my poll results are leaning towards a post DH fanfic AU where Fred doesn't die but Percy doesn't reconcile with his family. this one is about Arthur being the new Minister of Magic and Percy being his assistant... i will try to start writing this soon, so be on a lookout for that after this fanfiction!_

* * *

 **Love and Old Black Shoes**

Chapter Twenty-Seven

* * *

Percy did not recall falling asleep, but when he arose that morning, he realised that he was lying on the ground. His body ached, his gigantic head felt heavier than usual, and his arse had become a permanent part of his peppermint-toad-covered carpet. But he felt a lightness in his heart he hadn't felt in ages.

He suddenly recalled the events of last night, and the conversations that he had with Bill.

 _Luxo bloody Karuzo!_ Percy told Bill after having his third stale custard cream of the night. Well, he felt like all custard creams were inherently stale. _That unhinged, heartless dullard that illustrated The Tales of Beedle the Bard is your favourite portrait artist? Isn't that everyone's favourite portrait artist? Though I doubt he made it hard for most to forget him—painting portraits of rotting skeletons and marketing it to bloody children! How uncivilised… mind you, William, I still have a theory that his portrait of The Talking Spider is the reason that Ronald's arachnophobia even began!_

Instead of getting offended, Bill laughed and then he asked Percy what his favourite Hogwarts portrait was.

 _Sir Cadogan_ , Percy replied. _My mates and I find his tales enlightening and invigorating._

 _I find his tales enlightening too_ , Bill replied. _Whenever I hear them, I feel like lightning myself up on fire._

Percy just rolled his eyes then.

Bill then told him, _Wait! Did you say mates? I… I didn't know you had any mates! I've never see you bring any to the Burrow during the holidays so I just… I assumed you didn't!_ Percy could remember feeling this pang of pain in his chest. _How are they like? What are their names? What House were they in? I bet five Galleons that they were all in Ravenclaw._

 _I am not giving you five Galleons_ , replied Percy. He wouldn't even give him five sickles for that!

Percy hadn't mentioned their names to anyone since the second wizarding war, not even to himself in ages. Even when he'd been talking about Arthur, he'd mentioned _Regina Davies' son_ instead of calling _him_ by _his_ name.

Because Percy felt like if he said the names, he felt like it'll be _real_ to the fact that they weren't there. Because he was still mucked up in the head enough to convince himself that they'd been on holiday, and he wasn't the world's most disgusting mate for forgetting that his mates _DIED! WHOINMERLINSNAMEFORGOTTHAT!_

He… _he'dhe'dhe'd_ _FORGOTTEN_ and hadn't given them a single bloody thought for an _ENTIRE YEAR!_

Only when he was fast-approaching his own self-inflicted death did he remember that—wait a minute, there were these blokes that used to listen to him rant about this bollocks all the time! There were these blokes that held him at around five in the morning whilst he sobbed his heart out! There were these blokes that once sat with him in a room for three hours because he'd gotten hit by a Bludger, even when they told him that playing Quidditch was an awful idea! There were blokes that helped him revise for subjects they didn't take! Blokes that copied their own notes to give to him for Transfiguration, the only subject he struggled in so much that he cried the first time he had to transfigure anything into a stupid bloody matchbox! There were blokes that wrote him long anecdotes about the things they'd seen on their month-long holidays—gorgeous old wizarding buildings and books that held more character than an Elphias Doge publication, the description of skies that had a beauty even an artist would struggle to envision and adventures that made his extension collection of _Loony Nonby v.s. Cornish Pixie_ comics seem dull.

 _They died… and I'd forgotten them!_ Percy admitted to Bill. _How could someone forget about people that they'd been very close with after they'd passed away? How could someone disregard the memory of the people that they cared for after they were gone?_

Percy's heart felt heavier with every word. _Can I even say that I've cared for them? When all I've ever cared about is myself?_

He realised how cowardly he'd been; how cowardly he still was! He could barely remember their faces now, or how they sounded like most times. He'd had so many pictures and letters of theirs—even more than he'd had of his family or Penelope (and Merlin, did that woman love taking her bloody photograph!). Percy had been too afraid to look at them for fear of facing the reality that he was a bigger fool than he'd ever begun to believe. He could remember their pale faces and glittering eyes… a vestige of _something_ that was there before, that disappeared far too soon.

 _I still don't think about them much_ , Percy admitted. He had done so many terrible things in his life, but he felt like this was the cherry on top of the Bakewell tart. _They've given me so much... and I couldn't be bothered to turn up to their funerals!_

Bill didn't say anything for a while. _We can go now if you want_.

 _I beg your pardon?_ Percy felt like he was ready to cut a bloke for even suggesting that. What a terrible idea!

Despite the terribleness of the idea, Bill seemed to think otherwise. They changed into thin t-shirts that were so old that Percy bet if he looked through _Hogwarts: A History_ , he'd be able to see a bunch of British wallies wearing the same ensemble. The socks that he wore had holes in them and were mismatched. His trousers were shorter than Percy expected, and he felt like they were about to swallow them whole. He put his hands in the pocket and felt the distinctive outline of a dungbomb still in its wrapping—these were _George's_ pants. _Of course,_ they were George's bloody pants. He looked at the mirror just to rate the level of chaos was in his hair. He rated it as 'Ancient Forbidden Forest Tree That Had to Have Been Chopped Ages Ago' – a real improvement from how it had been looking like recently!

The honouring-those-who-have-fallen-during-the-war cemetery was a depressing sight, which shocked Percy to the core—he'd always been under the impression that graves and tombstones were supposed to be a… spiritual place!

As he smiled to himself because of his spine-chilling humour, Percy found himself reading names off tombstones of little lads and lasses he hadn't even known had died. As he wandered through the cemetery with ratty plimsolls and ankles caked in mud, he found himself rather exhausted very quickly. After twenty minutes of searching through what felt like an endless array of dirt-covered tombstones, Percy cursed himself for not bringing his anti-allergic potion with him because his eyes were starting to become red and sore, and his nose was starting to become runny.

There were enough ruddy flowers in this place to open a flower shop!

Bill placed a hand on Percy's shoulder, told him he was on his own after an hour of searching and walked off to see Fred's grave. Percy felt a steely feeling in his stomach, but from the corner of his eyes, even miles away—he could see Fred's tombstone clear as day. The day that they'd buried Fred was a memory imprinted in his mind forever. He could still feel George's wet face pressing against his body, sobbing with a reckless abandon for someone that was just not there anymore. Percy wondered if he wanted to see Fred too after—after he was doing looking for _their_ graves.

He found their gravestones—one after another. They were so… unremarkable.

 _Roger Davies. 1977-1998. Beloved son and brother._

 _Clarence Scott. 1976-1998. Beloved son._

 _Thierry Rossignol. 1977-1998. Beloved son and brother._

Percy rolled his eyes. Roger's brother was the Slytherin bloke that Roger confiscated that ruddy invisibility cloak from! He was the reason that he was dead! Merlin! Beloved brother! Roger would've chucked his brother in Azkaban without a second thought—and it seemed like the feelings were mutual! Who had the audacity to…! And Clarence would be appalled to know that his stupid crup wasn't mentioned anywhere in his tombstone! And Thierry! He would be shell-shocked to know that his tombstone message was less than the six-feet script that he'd envisioned for himself.

Unremarkable words for such remarkable people… and Percy didn't understand how this happened.

Percy balled his hands into fists. _"UNACCEPTABLE!"_ he decided to say. "How could you do this to them?" he yelled into the sky as if Merlin himself was bored enough to listen to Percy rant about this.

"They could've done something spectacular if you hadn't… hadn't…" Percy's hands were shaking.

They had plans so big. They'd seen so many things. Percy thought he'd have his own stories to tell one of these days or go on with them on one of their big expeditions. He never thought, anywhere at any point last year, that he could've lost his mates whilst they were still just in their twenties! _Twenties!_ His father owned muggle trinkets older than that! _I decided that I'm going to die in Peru_ , Thierry told him once. _It sounds like an important place to die in_. Unfortunately, Thierry died before the war even started—the bloke managed to be the only person in the world that died _CHOKING_ on _CHOCOLATE ICE-CREAM_. In a gritty London ice-cream parlour!

Merlin, bought a new meaning to _DEATH BY CHOCOLATE!_

Percy realised it was not particularly funny, but he didn't care. He was busy laughing vacantly, crying.

 _Funny!_ He'd been choking on his square of Honeyduke's half-off dark chocolate squares for weeks now. He'd try to chop them into pieces, but he'd still been finding it impossible to eat. Given that this was his major source of his food consumption, he'd been absolutely terrified to really look into the mirror or his body when he changed. Every week, he added an extra layer to his wardrobe. At this point, he had more clothing on his frame than a second-hand shop.

He remembered sobbing on his mates' graves as Bill apparated him back home. He cried until his head hurt, and he desperately clung onto Bill like he was the last person on Earth that he'd ever see.

Though he supposed he fell asleep at some point, but Percy did not know how he ended up on the floor.

"Slept well?" Bill had apparently been standing there, gawking at Percy for an unidentifiable amount of time—not creepy or horrifying at all! "You look like something the fat Kneazle ran over!"

Percy rolled his eyes and stood up to go look at himself in his mirror— _when did his mirror become dirty?_ Percy never had a dirty mirror before _…_ Merlin, that Kneazle that Bill was talking about had to be a dragon-sized heathen! He always looked poorly, but he genuinely looked like something inside of—of a disgusting Cornish pastry!

"Like you look any better," Percy replied coldly to chaotic-haired Bill, with his funny placed freckles.

Percy hadn't noticed how much his cheeks had sunken in! He felt like bawling his eyes over it, but he was afraid he might bring more attention to the… the _holes_ on his face! How did he get _so thin?_

Percy swore he ate a Bakewell tart the other day! And it was not fat-free, gluten-free or dairy-free.

And-and-and—the second he looked down at his hands, he felt like throwing up! How could someone's wrist be so _small?_ Percy felt a sudden panic rise in his bones. He was wearing seven layers, and he still looked about as big as a house-elf that just finished a seven-day diet. He felt like he was suddenly sobering up to a reality he'd been ignoring. He remembered slamming his fists yesterday at his mates' graves—no, at _ROGER'S_ grave, at _THIERRY'S_ grave, at _CLARENCE'S_ bloody grave—telling them how he was going to find some way to fix this! He wouldn't let them be forgotten… well, _again_ at the very least. Percy hated himself for what he'd done but he wanted to fix it so badly. He knew that it wasn't like his mates knew, but Percy knew. And as long as he knew, it'll break him apart.

Percy didn't really understand the point of funerals—or how he was supposed to believe that someone's life could be condensed to a rocky slab stuck in a field of wilted grass that no hippogriff wanted to eat from! Percy didn't know what he expected, but just seeing how plain his closest mates' tombstones were… there were lilies on their graves! _LILIES!_ The most traditional funeral service flower ever to exist! For people that were not traditional by any means necessary! Everyone else's gravestone looked more like a shrine. Fred's certainly was! As if they'd ever let his _Fred_ - _ness_ slip from his fingertips, as if they'd allow themselves to forget how he _SOUNDED_ like, how _DIFFERENT_ he was from George, how no matter how much George changed, he'd _NEVER_ replace Fred! _NEVER!_

" _I_ look better than you do," Bill's comment, for some reason, wounded him. "At least I'm not a bloody—"

Percy slowly nodded his head. He was sweating through the layers that he wore to make himself look better. He didn't hear the last part of Bill's sentence, too fixated in his own mind. Suddenly, he was torn between the gravesite yesterday and the mirror right in front of him. Evidently, wearing seven layers of clothing wasn't helping if he _still_ looked… he didn't know what he looked like. He'd seen more appealing vampires, and those pale cretins typically looked awful— _aside_ from the dashing members of the Ballycastle Bats.

"Perce?" Bill noticed that Percy hadn't spoken in a while. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, _I_ am perfectly fine," replied Percy, as he passed by Bill to leave his room. He was suddenly lightheaded, and he wasn't sure why because he ate a Bakewell tart— _a really big one_ —the other day, so he really should be bloody fine by now. "But I need to take a bath before I force a poor unsuspecting fellow to snuff it in. I smell of… I don't particularly know what, but my allergies are getting worse by the second!"

Bill nodded his head. "Perce, we have to talk about—"

"Yes, yes, I'll talk about it tomorrow," he cut Bill off.

Bill looked worried about Percy. "We can come to Shell Cottage sometime today and we can visit your mates' houses today. You said you wanted to do that today, and I didn't want you to go off on your own."

Percy couldn't remember saying that, but he suddenly remembered that between the sobbing recklessly and screaming at his mates' graves, Bill came around and Percy wrapped his arms around him, crying.

They talked about chocolate cauldron cakes that Charlie was stuffing in the cupboards.

 _Roger believed that he didn't deserve to eat any,_ Percy told Bill as they sat on the wet soil. He'd stopped crying by then.

Percy didn't even care that there was mud in his shoes, or that it was late. He didn't care that the moon was starting to wax and wane, and he could see the sun peering above the horizon to welcome a new day into the world. Percy did not know how he felt like about being alive another day. A part of him was genuinely happy though, and a part of him didn't really think much of it. He'd been alive dozens of days before after all!

 _Clarence tried to stick to eating healthfully. He tried to substitute it… and Thierry ate excessive amounts of it. Never was full though._ Percy let a soft smile rest on his lips. _However, in a twisted yet appropriately poetic fashion, Thierry died choking on a half-off square of Honeyduke's Marvellously Magically Magnificent Chocolate Bar. Now, discontinued of course._

 _Reminds me of mum trying to stuff us with chocolate tarts_ , Bill replied. _I could do without it. I eat plenty of it with Fleur._

Percy nodded his head. _Ginny says she doesn't like it all that much_. But she bloody inhaled it nonetheless!

 _George only buys those tricked out chocolate bars that have more fun things in them than there is actual chocolate_ , Bill didn't know how they'd gotten onto the conversation of analysing the family's chocolate-eating habits. _Dad's like that too—especially with muggle sweets. He used to wonder how they'd put the nuts and caramel in without a wand!_

 _Audrey likes her chocolate like her biscuits—overpriced_. The thought made Percy smile warmly as he thought of how much Audrey had been making him laugh recently. _Ron likes to share his, and_ _Mum likes hers warm, gooey and baked into a dessert._

Her endless chocolate soufflés just before they left for their first day at Hogwarts came to his mind. The chocolate cake that she baked him for his first birthday after the war ended. The chocolate mousse that she kept in bucketful on thee weekends, which Percy swore he could eat with a shovel ages ago.

Percy liked his chocolate white, like a beautiful Christmas morning. He liked it whiter than a plank page of a new journal. He liked it whiter than Penelope's favourite fuzzy slippers (' _I bought it half-off at a second-hand shop, but it's one of my favourite possession,'_ she'd told him that and he swore he fell in love with her even more that day.) He liked it whiter than the amazing glittery dress robes that his mum wore for her wedding renewal after the war.

When Percy had seen her that day, he'd wished that he'd end up marrying a woman as beautiful as his mum was.

On the day he'd left home, he'd bought dozens of white chocolate truffles. They were the most expensive truffles he had ever bought in his life. The silky, smooth chocolate was of finer quality than a robe at Twilfitt and Tatting's. The more he ate, the sicker he felt. Percy could still remember how the warm white chocolate coated his tongue, and how bloated his belly was the more he ate. He ate and he ate until he felt like he might vomit. It was the most chocolate he'd ever eaten in one sitting, and as he ate the wonderful little bits of heaven, all he could think about was how much he missed his mother's white chocolate pie. She made it with cheap white-chocolate, a can of cream, and a pre-made pie crust that she made three months ago (stored away with an anti-freezing charm)!

He'd not eaten any white chocolate after that, instead opting for squares of dark chocolate. His food became bitter. His food became scarce. Percy lost a stone, and then somehow _stones_ of weight. He didn't recognise himself.

He wished he would've gone home that night. He'd have really loved a piece of his mum's white chocolate pie.

 _Perce?_ Bill called out in a really soft voice. _Perce?_

 _I eat quite a lot of chocolate. Dark, of course_ , Percy had never really liked it though. _But recently, I've been choking on it_.

 _Choking on it?_ Bill seemed surprised to hear that. Maybe it'll be easy if you'd… consume it in another form?

Percy thought of Audrey again. She was such a wonderful woman. She wasn't quite his mum on her wedding renewal, but she didn't have to be. Because she was Audrey—and he'd rather have her be Audrey than have her have cascading red hair or sweet dark brown eyes.

 _Like a smoothie?_ Percy suggested. Bill agreed, but he didn't understand why Percy couldn't stop laughing.

Instead of taking a bath, Percy walked into the bathroom and slowly peeled off layer by layer. With every movement, he watched his chest expand. He felt like clawing his skin off and slicing himself to bits when he found himself stood just in a pair of old, tattered underpants in front of the lengthy mirror at the Burrow.

It was funny. How when you strip everything away, he realised just how…

 _Oh_ , Percy forgot what he was thinking because he was too busy staring. He didn't even know how to describe how he looked like. It just didn't look particularly human anymore. But Percy felt human inside. He felt like he had so many big things inside him, so many big ideas… he didn't understand how they could be condensed into this microscopic entity. Percy didn't know how his glasses were hanging off his face anymore, or why even his ears looked different.

He tried to stay away from his family that afternoon, because he'd been treating them so poorly. Percy did not care if it was just a 'side effect' of the potion that he'd been ingesting—he'd said things that he wasn't supposed to say.

Percy wore his coat at around four pm, and then decided to apparate to Roger's house.

He didn't tell Bill. He _couldn't_ tell Bill.

The more he thought about the fact that he was going to Roger's, the more surreal he felt. Percy felt like he just ceased to exist, and something else was moving his arms and his head and making him feel these _things_ … and he didn't really know what he was thinking either. He just felt… sort of sad, but sort of not. And sort of alright.

He knocked on the door. Once, twice, three times. And then a fourth just to be safe.

He walked upstairs, and it was odd to think that when he was knocking on the door, he could imagine Roger opening the door. Roger, with his dark hair and big blue eyes that could make anything fall in love with him. Roger, that denied that he had any veela heritage at all. Roger, the bloke that once gave Ginny his favourite coat because Percy expressed concern about the fact that her mum forgot to pack her winter coat along with her robes—

He broke out of his thoughts when Regina opened the door.

Regina had yellow-hair, and Roger's big blue eyes—or rather, Roger had _her_ eyes…

Percy had a hard time digesting that for a moment. He had his rucksack on his back, and he felt like he was a fifth year again, asking Regina if Roger was around so that they could do their Divination homework together. Well, _Percy_ always did their Divination homework. Roger thought that Divination was just a load of dragon dung.

He straightened himself and offered a smile when he felt something whack him in the head from behind.

He turned around to see six-year-old Roselyn run towards him to grab her Quaffle, but Regina looked apprehensive. She shoved Percy aside, and told Roselyn to run off. And that she'd deal with this 'monstrosity' by herself.

Percy didn't do his hair before he left, but he'd like to think that he was not a _monstrosity_.

 _"Who are you?"_ Regina immediately pulled out her wand. "More importantly, _what_ are you? _OH!"_

Percy cleared his throat and did not know whether to be surprised or insulted. "I'm—"

" _Roselyn_ doesn't know any bloody vampires," when Regina said this, Percy decided that he felt rather insulted. Did he _really_ look like someone that survived on a nice cup of warmed up A positive for his breakfast? Percy couldn't imagine having to swallow that metallic-rich concoction as a strengthening solution between his meals! Besides, _he_ was iron-deficient. "So if you think that you can pull one over on me, you little twat then you've got—"

"Mrs Davis," Percy cut her off before she inflicted bodily harm on him. _"It's Percy."_

"Well, _I_ don't know any vampires named Percy," Regina forcefully jabbed her wand at the centre of his chest, and Percy wondered if he would die like this. Or if Roselyn would come back and deliver him a fatal kick to the head. It would be an anticlimactic, senseless end to his anticlimactic, senseless life. Very fitting actually.

" _ROGER'S MATE!_ " Percy watched her eyes widen as large as boulders. "Percy Weasley… _I'm_ Percy Weasley."

"No, you're not," Regina huffed, thrusting her chest out.

"I most definitely am!" Percy could not believe that she didn't believe him!

She smacked him over the head with her wand instead of calling out a spell—well, and after that, she called out a hex that made him suddenly break out into boils. Percy shrieked, jolting up from where he stood and noticed that not only was he covered in boils—but they were already erupting!

 _"AND YOU'RE NOT DRINKING ANYTHING FROM ME!"_ Regina shouted back at him. _"Do you know there's a bloody bank for you tossers now! DO YOU UNDERSTAND THAT? NOW… GO… AWAY!"_

Percy hoped that there weren't any of those attractive skin malformations anywhere on his bum. "But madam, I—"

She slammed the door to his face instead.

Percy collapsed by her porch, wrapping his arms around his body and sobbed into his knees. He'd been doing a lot of that lately, so it didn't really matter as much. He didn't know how to make Regina believe that he was—well— _himself!_

He didn't think that he was _that_ unrecognisable.

Percy waited until all the boils on his skin erupted before he left. He realised technically that he was sitting in his own pus. He'd probably wet himself out of the sheer horror of being tackled by such a prestigious woman in the Ministry. Honestly, Percy _wouldn't_ have been surprised. He grabbed the microscopic tuft of hair that he had and made it as messy as he could. He crumbled his clothes with his hands. Why did he bother looking like his best anymore? If all that was going to happen was that he'd be mistaken for an infection-ridden _VAMPIRE!_ For Merlin's sake!

He didn't know why he wanted to come here anyway. It wasn't like he deserved to.

Percy tried again the next morning. This time, he bought all his identification papers, his personal photo albums, and a box of letters that he and Roger had owled each other Just in case that this was not enough to convince her, Percy also went down to the Ministry and got a copy of _all_ the drafts of the documents that he'd ever wrote about Regina Davis. Filled with his spelling mistakes (not that there were many, but when one did about twenty-five papers in the span of an hour, it was uncanny for there to be a few errors. Fortunately, Percy did not send anything without checking it _at least_ four times.) There was no way that she'd be able to say that he was a ruddy scoundrel now!

He knocked on her door and tried to force a keen smile. He bet he looked like a carnivorous creature ready to attack.

When she opened the door, he reacted. Before she could even speak, Percy thrust the official documents into her chest.

"There are the original copies of the drafts that I made five years ago. You wanted me to help you expand the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes. After a three-hour lecture, I recall that the Minster agreed—even though it was a pitiful increase, and you bought me a Victoria sponge. Unfortunately, it exploded, and I ended up covered in it due to my family's interference of everything good in my life," Percy explained, and then shoved his identifications paper towards her. "These are my identification papers, which are _unreproducible_ …well, they are actually reproducible, but the reproducible variant is… well, _illegal_ and I am not an illegal person by any means."

Percy then opened the photo album crack in the middle of it. He pointed towards a picture at the top left corner. He'd bookmarked this page before he came to better his argument.

"This was a very secret slumber party. We did not call it that because only women have slumber parties, but it was _confidential_. And only five people ever knew that it had ever taken place that week—and several weeks following," Percy spent all of yesterday reminiscing about the day that Clarence glued Percy's head to the pillow with a permanent sticking charm! They couldn't get it off for _hours_. "Roger tore his pyjamas in tatters that night. I ended up with dragon pox, though nobody knew because they couldn't tell the dragon pox from the freckles. And I ended up making all my mates sick. They didn't talk to me for a _month_ because they couldn't take their exams!"

Percy wanted to reach for the box of letters, but he didn't want to explain anymore. "Do… d-do you remember that?"

When he saw that she didn't reply, he looked down at the box at his feet.

He crouched down to pick up the box of letters that he kept down but instead, he felt Regina pull him back up and wrap her arms around him. She dropped everything that she was holding, and she hugged him very tightly. She kept her hand directly on his spine and Percy could feel her feeling up his bony bits.

Before Percy could say anything, he felt a Quaffle hit him from behind.

 _"ROSELYN!"_ Regina shrieked at her daughter. _"WE… HAVE… A… GUEST! APOLOGISE… NOW!"_

Roselyn looked confused. "But you said—" she didn't continue that statement, mostly because Regina was shooting daggers at her. "I'm sorry! Okay?" she went over to pick up her Quaffle, showing no sign of actual remorse.

Regina told him to come in and make himself at home.

Of course, Percy was reluctant to make himself at home given the fact that she nearly killed him not twenty-four hours ago. He sat in one of the couches. He shoved his documentations and photo album in that gigantic box which was absolutely filled with letters. He'd read them all yesterday—he'd forgotten _so much_ about Roger now.

She made him a cup of tea and cut up a Victoria sponge for him. It didn't explode, but Percy would explode if he'd eaten that piece… Percy was sure that she'd served him half the damn cake!

Percy wished he had something to say, but they just sat together in a deafening silence.

Roger's house was never quiet before. He supposed though, after finding out your oldest son was a Death Eater that murdered your baby boy, you were entitled to a little peace and quiet now, weren't you? From the window, Percy could see Roselyn playing outside with her Quaffle, trying to cover it in mounds of sticky glitter.

"Did you know that Roger knew ab—…" Percy paused, realising he was trudging on very dangerous territory.

He hadn't even asked her _how she was!_ The poor woman hadn't even eaten a bite of her Victoria Sponge (a sliver compared to his mammoth-sized portion, mind you!) yet and Percy was interrogating her with… _hard questions_.

"After the _what?"_ Regina here was staring at him.

Percy's ears were red. "Oh, it's not-not something that neither he or I should to have known about." He probably shouldn't have even mentioned it, but he'd been wondering for years after Roger first told him about… about _what happened_. He took a sip of her tea. "Mrs Davis, um… your tea is _wonderful_." Her tea was trashy and unrefined. Percy was sure that he'd not even asked it out yet, but it already wanted to knock him into submission.

Regina looked confused. She put her teacup down. "Known about _what?"_ she asked.

Percy didn't say anything for a few minutes. Because _he wasn't supposed to know_.

He wasn't supposed to mention it because Roger wouldn't have wanted him to. But he wanted to say it _so badly_. He'd wanted Regina to know that Roger knew. Even if it meant nothing now that Roger was dead, but Percy still felt like he was obliged to tell her that _he knew about—_

"He knows why you got the divorce," Percy said. And time stopped but at the same time, his life was flashing before his eyes.

He'd either made one of the biggest mistakes in his life, or the best decision. He didn't know which yet.

Following Percy's word was a shattering of one teacup (filled with tea stronger than most of the firewhiskeys that Percy had), and a mess on the floor of jam and cream.

Percy was quick to deal with the mess. As his wand worked its magic, he couldn't help but think about the fact that he'd forgotten how _green_ the carpets were. He also forgot how Roger looked like his favourite green shoes. He was the most polished bloke in the world and he always looked amazing no matter what he was wearing! He'd _tried_ to forget about the pre-exam green smoothies they'd chucked down their throats every year (with lots of gagging and crying mind you—and that was before Percy realised he had to sit the disgustingly terrible Transfigurations exam!).

Percy sat back down on the couch, and he noticed that Regina was fiddling with her thumbs.

" _I_ don't believe you," Regina replied. "How in Merlin's name could he have… he couldn't have…"

Percy didn't know he was this unbelievable! He mentioned a very specific thing, and she knew how delicate the subject was and how reserved he was! Percy was not mentioning any-anything about _THAT!_

"He walked in on it. He'd wanted a glass of milk that night, he told me, and… he'd _seen_ it," Percy remembered the details, but he did not want to mention the details. He remembered Roger's eyes getting darker, as he talked, and the way his body shook. Roger never looked like that before, and he'd never looked like he quite did when he talked about _it_. Percy didn't know how, but he'd discovered then that everyone had an _it_ that made them feel like Roger did that day. "He said that—it doesn't matter now, but… he always…"

Regina was staring at Percy now, as if he was this disgusting person. Because he'd known. He'd known for years, and he hadn't said a thing. But what could he do? Roger told him not to, and Percy regretted that he hadn't said anything (he'd had _so_ many chances), but he was saying it now. Did that count?

"You're telling me that _IT DOESN'T MATTER WHAT HE SAID TO YOU_ after he told you that he watched his mother get raped by her idol, his sweet and wonderful father?" Regina asked, and Percy's chest ached.

"Did you know that his father sacrificed his life so that others may live during the first wizarding war?" Regina's voice was bitter. She had a right to be. "He's branded as one of the biggest heroes of our time and won the Most Charming Smile Award in Witch Weekly six years in a row… _BEFORE_ they discovered Gilderoy Lockhart existed! That Lockhart is a real conman but at least he didn't… he didn't…"

Regina looked like she wanted to cry, but Percy did not know how to comfort older woman. Hugging them was inappropriate, especially when uniformed consent was the issue!

Percy nodded his head. "It doesn't matter what he said," he repeated his earlier statement. "Because he wasn't sure what he was saying most of the time when he talked to us. But we all noticed how he… he _changed_ after."

He cocked his head to one side. "He was so bloody arrogant but then he…"

Regina looked like Roger did when he finally found out the answer to a Divination question. Those wide blue eyes filling up with a stark, sobering realisation…

 _I shouldn't figure that out ages ago!_ Roger would say. _The answer's as obvious than a Kneazle in a pair of dress robes!_

After the incident, Percy felt like Roger acted like he was the one that hurt his mum! He'd spent all his life basking in the glory of his father. His father's fame, his father's heroic antics and beautiful face, his father's love… that _smile_ that Roger had when someone told him that he looked like his father. He was one of the most handsome men of the wizarding world, you know! Meanwhile, Percy, Clarence and Thierry were cut from the same cloth—second-hand, with the wonderful surprise of giving you repeated bouts of _Candida_ if you wear it for too long _._ That explained their love life as well. What woman wanted to have _Candida_ on her—

Percy sighed, not even finishing that thought because he wasn't an undignified heathen…

 _BUT_ when it came right down to it… knowing what he knew about Roger and his father and what he _saw_ , Percy supposed that having _an ambitionless father_ and a pair of old shoes for Christmas didn't seem so bad after all!

"He never told me why he never wanted to see him again," Regina said quietly. "Roger loved him _so much!"_

Percy _knew_. He knew that Roger loved him. It hurt him too to think about it!

"He's not like…" Percy swallowed the lump in his throat. " _Roger is not like_... but he wouldn't believe that—!"

"Oh— _oh no!"_ Regina shook her head. "Roger is nothing like him... _NOTHING_ like him!"

Percy nodded his head. He knew. He knew Roger wasn't anything like him, but Roger wouldn't believe it. His relationships with women were all over the place! Every time a woman would try to get him to sleep with her, he'd bolt out the door faster than a Chaser on a Firebolt! Every woman he dated was _so nice_ , but he always broke it off because he was afraid of _hurting them_. As if women were these dainty little things that could be broken if you just looked at them for too long! Percy found it more hilarious that he considered Fleur, _A_ _CONTESTANT IN ONE OF THE GREATEST HARDEST COMPETITIONS IN THE WIZARDING WORLD_... _DAINTY!_

Fleur was _NOT_ dainty just because she… looked pretty! Merlin!

"I know," said Percy very softly. He tried to eat some of his sponge before he left, but after the first bite got jammed in his throat, he bid his farewell and left. He contemplated going to the hospital for a while just to make sure that that mouthful of sponge entered his stomach, because he felt like it was still stuck in his throat.

After that, he went back home. He walked in through the back door, and found Molly stood by the counter. She was making that white chocolate pie that he thought about that day.

"Do you want any?" she asked, as she was licking and tasting the batter. It was one of his favourite things to eat.

Percy puffed up his chest, trying to pretend that his gigantic coat could hide his little body. "No."

Instead, he collapsed in his bed and wondered if his tombstone would be boring too.


	28. Chapter 28

_honestly, guys? i didn't even bother re-editing this chapter because of how tired i am today (seriously.) if i didn't update tonight, you'd probably have to wait a week, so i hope that there aren't too many mistakes! after this chapter, there's one more and then an epilogue. Chapter 29 is in Audrey's POV and the epilogue in Percy's._

 _oh, and a note, because Phoenixx Rising asked: the poll is on my bio. :)_

* * *

 **Love and Old Black Shoes**

Chapter Twenty-Eight

* * *

George was so ashamed of himself! He had spent so much time _READING_ that untidy, copper-red hair got stuck into his copy of _STICKY SPELLS FOR STICKY POTIONS!_ Who knew a book could be so… _sticky?_

 _"HELP!"_ George yelled out, trying to dissect the book without losing his beautiful red locks!

Ginny ran into the room, wearing nothing but an oversized, sea-blue-coloured towel. Her long hair was in wet clumps.

 _"GEORGE, I LEFT THE BATHROOM BECAUSE I THOUGHT… I THOUGHT YOU WERE DYING!"_ Ginny shrieked, but then she looked around the room, which was filled with more book than-than Percy's room. She looked at him with a discombobulated facial expression. "Are these... these-these _BOOKS…_ that you're reading? _REAL_ ones?"

 _"Shhh!"_ George pulled Ginny in, and then stared at her seriously. "I… I…"

Ginny looked confused when George started beaming at. "What is it? What are you hiding?"

George picked up a pretty-coloured potion from the counter. "I made _THIS!"_ he waved it around. His shirt was getting baggy, but he wasn't sure why because he ate a tub of toffee ice-cream yesterday when he'd skipped his dinner.

"What in Merlin's name is that?" Ginny asked.

George just kept on smiling. "This is for Percy," he gave it to Ginny. "I… it's a cure for him! _I think!_ Well… I tried!"

She was gawking at him. "Really?" she looked excited. " _YOU_ found a cure?"

He nodded his head, his thin hair falling in front of his freckled face.

"Not bad for a bloke that didn't sit his O.W.L's, don't you think?" George asked.

"Not bad at all!" Ginny exclaimed in excitement.

She hugged him as tightly as she could, nearly crushing his little, sore ribs. Merlin, his head hurt.

He'd spent the past couple of months reading up all these boring books—how knackering! How did Percy do this all the time _without_ going absolutely bonkers? Just like George sometimes felt like his arms were about to fall off after one of Oliver Wood's Quidditch game, George felt like his _brain_ was sore after reading his twenty-third potions book of the week. He'd been attempting dozens of these potions daily! This was his _sixty-eighth_ _try!_

Being Percy was a lot of hard work. All these-these sticky books gluing to his massive big-headed _… head_.

"But-but I don't know if it'll work!" George honestly said and felt her grip loosen. "But-but if Percy _does_ bleed, then at least his organs would stay... well— _INSIDE!_ " he laughed, though he didn't think it was funny.

It was that sad laugh he had after Fred died. He hadn't laughed like _that_ in ages. "It's the least I can do… right?"

Ginny pulled away to look at him, and he felt his heart pounding in his chest; in his head.

"I did it for-for… Bill too," George explained. "I don't think he'd be alright if he sees th-th- _that_ … again."

She slowly nodded her head. Ginny managed to extract the book out of his hair, but not without his hair suffering. His stunning red locks were contorted in dangerous shapes he'd only seen in an old copy of a _Charming Cunts_ magazine. He rubbed his eyes, which were sore and red. He hadn't slept in ages, and he felt so ill from pure sleep deprivation. But… George felt like Fred would be proud of him today, and he felt proud of himself too.

 _Ha_ , George thought with an accomplished, exhausted feeling in his aching bones. _And you said potions was stupid!_

"We should tell everyone else," Ginny broke him out of his thoughts. "I can owl Bill to ask him around for dinner!"

"It might not work, Gin," George reminded her. He didn't want to bring anyone's hopes up too much. He didn't think he'd be able to live with himself if that happened and his potion backfired. "But… but I _tried_ … alright? Just in case that—you know, Percy just…d-d— _you know_ ," his heart was about to burst out of his ears.

 _Dieddieddied_. Just in case Percy _died_ and unravelled into shards of himself even after he tried the potion.

But at least that there was the chance that he wouldn't. There was a chance that he'd live… right?

George knew he was no potions master. He didn't even have a prescription to _The Practical Potioneer_. He just mixed things together in the gradients mentioned in the books he read until his potions didn't explode anymore. Oh, and if it looked like the books told him it would look like, he supposed that was always a good sign too!

"Hey," Ginny placed a hand on his shoulder. "You did your best," she said, as if it that meant anything.

His best didn't mean anything if Percy snuffed it in and ended up being a bloody jammy mess on the ground. George saw the pictures, but he had a hard time believing that Percy _fantasised_ about doing that to himself for a _year_.

Ron walked inside the room. He didn't reek of alcohol and it had been a month since he'd reeked of alcohol, which was promising. Ever since Percy moved back in, he'd ditched the bottle because he didn't want to upset him.

"What are you guys talking about?" Ron asked, looking at them suspicious. "Merlin, _what is_ that muck?"

 _"This isn't muck!"_ George said, protectively yanking his potion from Ginny's hands.

George didn't know what just snapped in Ron to get himself together, but he was almost jealous because he still banged his head in the bathroom and threw Fred's things in the toilet sometimes. He didn't know why he did that. It wasn't often anymore, but it still happened. It was like he thought he'd gotten over Fred's death, until this sad feeling just suddenly attacked him, and he wished that he'd died instead of Fred.

Sometimes, he'd start picking at his good ear because he was tired of hearing Fred _laughing…_ laughing at Percy's joke!

Ron nodded his head understandingly. "Giving Ginny beauty tips, huh?"

George glared at him. " _THIS_ is gonna save Percy! Well…" he flushed. _"Maybe."_

Ron's eyes widened. "Merlin, you—!"

" _I'm_ not sure if it will!" George cut him off. "But I added a stabilising charm just in case it doesn't so Percy doesn't end up exploding like an extra-strong dungbomb dropped in a Hogwarts' toilet!"

"What in Merlin name's a stabilising charm?" Ron stared at George like he was talking in Elvish. "You _made_ that?"

George did not tell Ron what a stabilising charm was. It was used in making profiteroles to make sure that the cream didn't leak out of the pastry! Profiterole making was _another_ skill George had to his extensive repertoire, of course.

"I didn't know you were such so smart, George," Ron said after some time.

George felt oddly insulted. _He_ was not smart at all! Yesterday, he accidentally wore his boxers on backwards, and proceeded to wonder what was wrong for most of the day until he'd gone to take a leak!

Oh, ask Angelina! Katie! Alicia! They could vouch for the fact that George was a _moron!_

Later that evening, they sat around the dining table like they did every evening. Bill couldn't make it because he had an important meeting at work and George found himself feel too sick to eat dinner.

Suddenly, all the euphoria from making the potion disappeared and in its place was about a thousand questions instead. George piled his plate with stuffed veal and mashed potatoes, but he could barely eat a bite. He tossed a look over at Percy, who was busy finding out _what_ exactly the bloody thing was stuffed with.

So far, George wondered who ate more tonight. Him, or his emaciated apparition of a brother.

 _I bet Fred looks better rotting in his grave_ , George mumbled, staring at Percy's bony arm. He'd seen fatter feathers.

 _Hey! You know I always look good_ , he could almost hear Fred say. _Did you know I'm all the flobberworms could talk about?_

He cleared his throat to get everyone's attention—no luck. Arthur was busy chattering about _something_ that wasn't important, and Percy was busy pretending that he was listening to the chattering.

"…a real treat!" Arthur finished, whatever he was saying. "Do you want me to bring you one?"

 _"No,"_ Percy replied, and George would bet his other ear that Percy didn't even know what Arthur was talking about.

"Percy, let your father get you one," Molly responded. "You might really enjoy it!"

"What would I do with a broomstick?" Percy honestly asked. _That_ was what they were talking about! George didn't think he'd ever seen Percy _enjoy_ something, much less a broomstick. "I apparently already have a stick up my arse."

Ron laughed, and Ginny just gave him a hard look. He shrugged and mouthed a _What?_ towards her.

Ginny stared at George and gestured to their parents. George nodded his head.

He felt very apprehensive about mentioning the potion to his parents, or even to Percy. He wondered if Percy even _wanted_ to take a potion that could potentially save his life. What-what if Perce was lying when he said he regretted trying and instead, wished he'd die so that he could finally be bloody free of them? After all, George didn't know what typically went in the mind of a bloke that _fantasised_ about _torturing himself to death_. George wished that Fred was—

 _What do you want me for?_ He could almost hear Fred saying and then laughing. _Oh right, my balls were always bigger. I always did say that they put is in Gryffindor because we were twins, but you're more like a Ravenclaw! Borrowing BOOKS to read!_

 _We need all that Transfiguration, Potions and Charms stuff for… for our joke products!_ George could remember arguing. _I bet you didn't want us take O.W.L's because you haven't figured out a way to cheat off me!_

Fred pushed him back very softly, and George pushed back— _harder_.

That was the first and only time they'd had that conversation. It was during their fifth year. George happened to have lost his rose-tinted glasses after _FRED_ took _ANGELINA_ to the Yule Ball when Fred knew that he liked her!

George gripped his hand tightly around fork. This was the first time he didn't care about the fact that Fred was so… so _dead_. He was almost _GLAD_ that Fred was dead! George wouldn't admit it to _anyone_ but there was a small piece of him that hated that nobody could tell the difference between them; a small part of him that felt relieved that he didn't have to be confused with Fred anymore; a small part of him that was angry that Fred used to laugh at him for being too sensitive and for running after Angelina, or Katie or Alicia every time that one of them ended up being sad _because Fred didn't get that their jokes weren't always funny!_ Fred! Who just had to die and ruin his whole family!

He'd blamed Percy for Fred's death. _Well,_ _FRED KILLED PERCY_ … was killing…maybe because his potion wasn't—

Ginny nudged him, and George just looked away. He could also feel Ron eying him.

If Fred didn't think that reading a book was synonymous with joining the Death Eaters, George bet he could be sure that he was going to save Percy. If Percy died, _itwasFredsfaultitwasFredsfaultitwasFredsbloodyfault_.

"George?" Ron whispered to him. "Say _something_."

George tried to stop thinking about Fred so much, but he was still consumed with the thoughts of his twin. There were times when he'd been at Hogwarts that he felt like _half_ a person without Fred. He didn't want to end up having arguments with Fred, so he just agreed to whatever he said! Even if Fred could tell that there was something wrong, the sodding bastard didn't ask! And then Fred had the last laugh when he'd died and made George feel so… _so_ _hole-y!_

"Mum, Dad," George took a sip of water, his hands were shaking. "I've I got something to say," he said in a whisper.

He heard Percy drop his spoon but thought nothing of it. Another dinner Percy didn't eat!

"Mum... Dad," George repeated in a higher tone of voice. "I've… I've got something to _SAY!_ "

Arthur didn't seem to be listening because he'd been cutting Percy's veal into pieces, like he did when they were six years old. He stabbed a small piece with a fork and gave it to Percy to eat. An insulted-looking Percy dropped the fork.

In the same second, both Ron and Percy had an outburst.

 _"MUM! DAD!"_ Ron yelled, catching their attention. _"GEORGE HAS SOMETHING TO SAY ABOUT—!"_

" _I_ don't feel very well," Percy said. It didn't matter how loud Ron yelled, because that was all anyone heard.

Molly almost raced towards him with the speed of an experienced Chaser on the broom just to feel his temperature.

Ron didn't seem to care about the fact that they didn't know. He just looked at George like he had all the answers.

"Do you think he's alright?" Ron asked George, and George just shrugged. "Do you know I can't tell if Percy is actually real sick or if it's just another normal day for him because he always looks bloody sick?"

"I know," replied George. He looked over at Ginny, who was staring agape at Percy with sad eyes.

"You have to do something _now_ ," Ginny whispered to George.

 _"YOU HAVE TO DO SOMETHING NOW!"_ Molly told Arthur after she got the confirmation that Percy was heating up faster than that old horny crup Charlie bought in yesterday. Arthur was staring at Percy with the same facial expression that Ginny had—one of complete disbelief. "Arthur, _I'll_ go pack his things! Someone should owl Bill!"

"And Audrey," Charlie added as an afterthought, not that Molly heard that.

When his mother was busy trying to pack things for Percy's hospital stay, she delegated Charlie the task of checking Percy's temperature every few minutes just in case it got even higher. Charlie's statements about the fact that Percy was not going to have rapidly fluctuating temperatures went amiss.

"Well, on second thought…" Percy told Charlie, who was standing over him with a wand. "I feel fine now!"

Charlie snickered. "I'm sure if you tell mum, she'll realise that there's no need for you to visit the hospital."

Upstairs, they could hear Molly tearing down the house, screaming at Ginny to walk up there and try to find out where they kept the spare slippers that she always used. Well, at least Percy would be cosy if he did die tonight.

Meanwhile, George was sat in the living room. He wondered how he'd feel if Percy died tonight.

Would he feel like a failure? Would he feel like he did everything that he could? What he blame Fred? Would he blame himself? Would he wonder what would've happened to Percy if he just lived a few more days? Was this the first sign of Percy starting to deteriorate? Was he was going to be a pulpy mess before they got to the hospital? Did Percy just have the sniffles because of that ruddy crup that Charlie bought over yesterday? Shouldn't he walk upstairs and give him the potion _now?_ Why was George _so scared?_ Why did he feel like Percy was _already gone?_

Ron and Ginny decided to intrude on him and his… well, he wasn't sure what he was doing but it wasn't helpful.

Ron didn't mask his irritation. "Why didn't you say anything before—?"

"I didn't wanna tell anyone else," George explained, swallowing the lump in his throat. He was suddenly ultra-conscious of the fact that he had the phial tucked into his old, tattered robes. He felt like it might fall and shatter any second now. "I don't wanna get anyone else's hopes up… especially not Mum and Dad if-if— _you know_."

They did know, because the irritation immediately melted off Ron's face.

"It's okay," Ginny cut him off. "We should give him the potion in the hospital."

Ron nodded his head. "We should see Hermione first," he said. "She could check your potion."

George groaned. He felt like he was taking his Potions' O.W.L tonight. "I'm glad you have so much faith in me!"

He couldn't believe that they didn't apparate to the hospital with the rest of their family.

Instead, they apparated off to Ron and Hermione's flat—which Ron was barely in most times and it showed! The place was _spotless_. Apparently, Harry was visiting too. George startled him so much that he nearly dropped his kettle, but fortunately for Ginny's sharp reflexes, she'd caught it before. It was very romantic.

Hermione asked him about thousand about his potion making. Nothing about magical herbs and fungi though.

"Did _you_ really make this?" why did people ask him that? No, he bought it off the Knockturn Alley for three sickles!

"What book did you use? What are the references of the book that you used?"

George could barely remember, but it was gigantic, so he supposed it had loads of reference.

This was the point where he had to leave the flat to go get the book he used. Unfortunately, George spent an hour looking because he forgot what book he did use! And he had tens and tens of those buggers lying around!

"What took you so long?" Hermione asked when George returned with his book. And its _references_.

George rubbed his head. "I think one of these books assaulted me," it didn't even ask him for his name before it did!

Nobody cared about it, because Hermione was busy doing her _analysis_. Meanwhile, George drank a coffee.

After Hermione read the passage, she inspected his phial again. She read the passage he used and made him go by step by step how he made the potion. After he passed that (unfortunately not with flying colours but rather with many errors along the way), she started asking him random questions about what potion ingredients he knew and what happened if you mixed them together. George did not know what the point of this was because he hadn't taken Potions since he dropped out of Hogwarts. She then asked him questions about what he thought would happen if he made this potion at a slightly lower or higher temperature! What did _that_ help?!

 _He used the appropriate bloody temperature!_

George's mind seeped out of its skull with every question she bombarded him with. Two hours later, Ron had to practically carry George from the couch. He never felt this thoroughly fucked before.

Oh, the potion checked out, but she wasn't sure if it was going to save Percy either! Brilliant! _What a help that was!_

Ron had more faith in George's potion now, but George just felt unhappy about the whole thing. He felt angry that people kept on doubting him. Why would he think of giving Percy something he didn't think might have help him? The literature wasn't clear that was all! Surprisingly enough, George didn't have _that_ many Bludgers to the brain because even he hadn't completely lost the ability to read and comprehend _words_ on a page!

They came to the hospital only to receive an angry look from their mother.

 _"I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU!"_ Molly yelled at them from outside the hospital room. Her hair was a bigger mess than usual, and she was still wearing her awful-looking green-coloured house robes. They were so old that St Mungo's looked new in comparison to her robes. "Percy might _DIE,_ and this might be the last time we'd ever see him and you're off gallivanting doing… _I don't know what you've been doing but it can't be THAT important!"_

"We went to Hermione's to—" before Ron could finish that statement, George punched him lightly in the back. Fortunately, Ron was a weed and George was muscular, so he ended up coughing for five minutes.

His mother's outburst gave George a lot of anxiety. Maybe something bad happened to Percy.

"I'm having your father have a good talk to you lot!" Molly crossed her arms over her chest.

George always liked it when his mum said that because Arthur couldn't scare a mouse. He usually just told them not to do it again… and then fed them Honeyduke's whilst extracting the tale!

When they walked inside the room, George felt an instant relief when he saw Percy sat on the bed, looking exactly like he did when he was at home—well, apart from the scowl on his face. Bill and Audrey were there too. She looked as polished as she always did. She had kicked her heels underneath his bed and was busy holding his hand. Bill looked nice in his dress robes, but he looked so devasted and withdrawn from everything around him.

Charlie was sat in a corner, silent. And their father was—

Oh, _that_ was why his mum told them that their dad was give them a good talk! Arthur looked livid as he talked to Penelope, who had her arms crossed over her chest and they were yelling at each other.

 _"WHY IN MERLIN'S NAME WERE YOU GIVING HIM SOMETHING THAT COULD HURT HIM?"_ Arthur yelled.

"Do you have any idea how many potions he needs _just_ so he doesn't die?" Penelope asked. "Some of them are bound to interact with each other! I'm not sure which one it is, but we'll find out and take him off before…well—"

"Before _what?"_ Arthur's face was redder than his hair. "Before he dies from _YOUR_ cock-up?"

She cleared her throat and looked like she was about to cry.

Penelope turned to Percy. " _PERCY_ , if you feel _SEVERE INTRACTABLE PAIN_ , you should… l-let us know!"

"Don't worry. I will probably tell you if I am dying," Percy replied dryly. "Thank you."

Without the layers, Percy looked even skinnier. George didn't think that was possible, but his arms were poking out of the dressing gown and he just felt anxious looking at them. He wasn't sure how Percy could move his own body without _severe intractable pain_. Yesterday, one of Charlie's crups chased him around the yard because the bastard thing thought that Percy's legs was a couple of bones that he could play with. Even an animal didn't know the difference!

"Hey, Perce," George sat by his bedside, just beside Audrey. "I'm sorry I'm late."

Percy cocked his head to one side. It's alright," he picked up a quill from the bed.

George sat down on one of the chairs beside his bed. Percy picked up his journal, flipping to the page of his bucket list. He tore the page and then balled the paper up before tossing it in the bin. George wondered what he'd written in it.

"Don't make me _Incendio_ that," Percy said, jabbing his quill in George's direction as if he could read his mind.

The fact that he didn't meant that he totally wanted George to read it after!

George reached out for the bin and unwrapped the journal page. Percy just shook his head and mumbled something about not being heard. George didn't remember what Percy said, but George replied, "I heard you, Perce."

Percy rolled his eyes. "You most definitely did not hear what I just said," he decided to say.

George read through the journal page and felt his heart ache and sink further in his chest.

"Hey, Perce," he placed a hand on Percy's freckled one. "We could've helped with—"

"It's fine," Percy said, a very serious expression on his face. "Do you understand?"

George nodded his head. He honestly believed Percy when he said that. Instead, Percy pulled George's chin up so that he was staring at the wall. Percy then leaned in closely, trying to inspect his face.

 _"Aha!"_ Percy yelled out in excitement. "I've got it!"

Percy flipped through his journal until he landed onto a drawing of George.

George stared at it agape and didn't know what to say. Percy dipped his quill in an inkpot that he'd already had open next to his bedside, and then made the smallest addition: a tiny little freckle just above his jaw.

George was even more impressed with how Percy's face lit up when he'd added that final piece to his drawing.

 _"Perfect!"_ Percy said, nearly dropping his quill from sheer excitement. He even laughed a little.

 _Perfect Prefect Percy,_ George's head spun as he stared at the photo. "Perce, are you alright?" he asked.

Percy cleared his throat and composed himself, but it was still evident he was still excited about his accomplishment. He tore the page and gave it to George. "Here," he then tore the one after it too. "And this as well."

George put the two drawings down together. They were of him and Fred.

"Oh," George said, and then reached over to the Fred drawing. He traced over Fred's hair, his shoulders shaking.

In that second, he felt like he didn't know _anything_ about Percy. He didn't know Percy could _smile_ like that or be _happy_ like that. He didn't know how much Percy tried to compose himself, or why he did it anymore. He didn't know if Percy really wanted to _live_. He didn't know Percy could draw like that and George felt like it didn't matter what a bunch of crummy bucket list said anymore. He just wished he had the chance to—

"What's wrong?" Percy asked, breaking George out of his thoughts.

He just smiled. "It's real nice, Perce," George wondered why he didn't know about this before. George wondered what Percy's life was supposed to be like ten years from now if he didn't take that stupid potion that was giving him a slow and writing death. He wondered why Fred hadn't visited— _he was a ghost, wasn't he?_ "Thank you."

Some time had passed, and Percy pulled out another journal from his ratty, old rucksack. This one was gigantic, pink and covered in glitter. George didn't know what was in that journal, and Percy looked like he'd wanted to keep it to himself because he'd flipped through a few pages and his eyes lit up again. He looked so _proud_.

Percy cleared his throat.

"George," Percy stared at him very seriously. "Would you get me a cup of coffee please?"

As in, Percy did not want George staring at him staring at his new pink journal. He wanted George to be out of the room, if not as many people as possible because he wanted to gawk at his pretty pink journal.

He nodded his head. Ginny and Ron followed him immediately after.

He was glad that the potion that he made for Percy didn't turn the coffee the shame shade, and he took a sniff of it. It still _smelled_ like coffee. George was impressed by this and felt relieved.

"I think he wouldn't know what'll hit him," Ron said in excitement. "Well, then again, there was that time that Percy didn't know what hit him and it was a two-tonne Bludger coming his way."

Ginny laughed. "Maybe we can teach him how to finally ride a broom if this all works out."

 _"It might not work,"_ George reminded them. "Okay? I'm not Merlin!" he didn't want their expectations to be _like this!_

By the time that they walked upstairs, everyone else was outside Percy's room. Of course, George nearly dropped the coffee because he thought the worst of the worst and that Percy's last words were asking for a hot beverage.

"What happened?" Ron also had the same thought. "I… he was fine just two minutes ago! George lost a plimsoll from how fast we were running!" they couldn't apparate within the hospital without a licence after all.

 _"He's fine, love!"_ when Molly said that, George immediately relaxed. "Now, listen to me…!"

He swallowed a lump in his throat, and Molly looked up, rubbing George's shoulder.

"We thought that-that-that just in case that… that Percy… d-… _dies_ tonight," Molly said that with a tremble in her lip. Her tone was that of complete disbelief, like Percy was already did and she didn't know what to do with it, "that maybe it's better if we both spend a little time with him on our own! Now, who wants to go first?"

George looked around, noticing Bill and Charlie looked like they were in deep thought. As if the answer to what exactly they were supposed to say to what might be Percy's last night might just fall out of the sky. Arthur was pacing.

Audrey was sat by her own, holding a smoothie bottle. She was clutching it so tightly that her knuckles went white.

"George first," Ginny and Ron said almost immediately, and George nodded his head.

Bill and Charlie looked at them suspiciously, but they didn't say anything.

Molly looked surprised by this too but grabbed George's arm and looked at him with a strange affection that made him feel closer to his mother than he had in years. Suddenly, he'd felt bloody awful that he didn't get this wonderful woman a better Christmas card last year. And that he'd given her so much grief. George knew that when she looked at him, all she saw was Fred staring back at her. At first, he was insulted, but now, he felt like he began to understand just how much this woman _loved_ them.

"Sweetheart, whatever happens… it's not your fault," Molly told him, as if she could read the thoughts in his head. George found that funny because he thought the only person that could even guess what he was thinking was Fred..

 _Yes, it is,_ George thought to himself. _I'm the one that made the potion that's supposed to save his life._

"I love you so much," Molly said, and he felt all this warmth suddenly form in his chest. She hugged him, and he felt like he wanted to cry. What could he say? What could he say to _that?_

 _Mum, I wanna save him_ , George thought to himself. _Mum, I have to. He can't… he can't die. From… from SUICIDE!_

"It's not yours either, mum. Nobody could've known that Percy was feeling that way," George found himself saying. It wasn't a lie—he meant it even more than he meant what he thought. As long as his mum didn't blame herself, George could maybe find a way to live with this. "You tried your best."

"Alright," Molly didn't look like she believed it, but the smile she gave him was genuine. "Thank you… _um_ …"

"I mean it, mum," George repeated, watching her start to crumble.

"Excuse me, George," she gave him a kiss on the cheek. "I have to go to the bathroom."

Her voice was starting to shake and as she left, Ginny followed right after her.

He watched Ginny holding onto their mum's arm and talking to her as they walked through the hallway. George was sure that Ginny was sent by Merlin himself sometimes. She knew exactly what to do all the time!

" _I_ made him a chocolate smoothie so don't feed him too much of that!" Audrey said, pointing towards his coffee.

George offered Audrey a toothy grin and walked into the room.

He saw Percy sitting now on the edge of the bed. His tiny, wasted legs hanging from the edge of the bed. He perked up more when he saw the coffee. George remembered how Percy liked his coffee: sweet, sweet, _sweet_. Fortunately, the sweet-smelling coffee probably helped Percy oversee the fact that George had added an extra ingredient of his own.

"So…" George didn't really know what to say. "You're dying, huh?"

Percy nodded his head. "They measured the levels of potion in my blood and they're getting higher by the minute."

He didn't sound disappointed, but maybe that disappointed George too.

"What happens _now?"_ George asked, sitting beside Percy, who offered him a sip of his coffee, but George declined. Percy did not find that suspicious because only a flobberworm would drink that much sugar and not die of toxicity.

"I suppose I should enjoy this cup of coffee whilst it lasts," Percy said.

"And _after?"_ George asked in a cracked voice. "What happens after?"

Percy just shrugged. "I suppose I wouldn't know, because _I'd_ be dead." He smiled, but George didn't find it funny.

George could see how much Percy was enjoying that coffee. He was holding it close to his face, taking a whiff of the coffee-tinged liquid sugar and smiling so much that he, the bloke that was paler than most ghosts, started to have rosiness in his cheeks. Percy almost looked _happy_.

"George," Percy said his name and George felt his chest ache. The world seemed dull. "It's alright."

"I know," George replied, but he didn't know. Suddenly, he was a child again, and he wanted to climb that ladder.

How in Merlin's name was he going to climb the ladder if he didn't have Fred jeering at him to do it until he did? How in Merlin's name was he going to climb _that stupid ladder_ if he didn't have Percy standing on top, telling that he could?

He was still afraid of heights most days. He'd been falling for years, and he hadn't landed yet.

"I…" George cleared his throat, because there seemed to be a thousand days of questions on the tip of his tongue, but he'd forgotten about all of them when it mattered the most. And the ones he remembered didn't seem to be so important anymore when he stared at Percy's rotting face and fake, perfect smile. "I don't want you to die."

It wasn't the most poetic thing he could say, but it was the most truthful thing that he could say.

Percy's smile faltered for a moment. "I know," he said. He placed a hand on George's thigh. "But it's nice to hear it."

 _It's nicer if you stayed_ , George thought to himself. _It's nicer if you see me get married. It's nicer if I could bring Fred back too._

"Aren't you scared?" George asked, wondering where the fear just disappeared from. Percy told him that he was afraid of dying alone once, and George told himself that no matter what, he didn't think that he was going to let Percy be in the room alone anymore—not when there was that chance that he'd… _you know_.

Percy stared at George. " _I_ am absolutely terrified." George hadn't noticed how his hands were shaking.

"That's too bad," George responded. He didn't know how he'd feel if this was his last words to Percy, so he tried to find something else to say—something very nice. But no matter how much he thought, he couldn't find that _ultimate_ last sentence to say to Percy. One of those powerful sentences that people said that made everything fall into place.

George really _looked_ at Percy now, and he something that was very small and unhappy. "You look real sad, Perce."

"Well, I suppose that's because well…" Percy's face crumpled. " _I_ don't particularly want to die either."

"Oh," George curled up his knees on the bed. It was a weird thing. To be happy about the fact that you have hands, to hear your heart beat into your ears… to be sat in a hospital cot with your brother who had the longest suicide ever.

"I'm sorry, Perce," he said, and he meant that too. Even if it was the most useless sentence he'd ever said.

"It's okay," Percy replied, but it wasn't okay. " _I'm_ sorry, Georgie. I wish I didn't… but _I did_."

George placed a hand on Percy's shoulder. "Hey," his voice was soft. Percy's lip was trembling. "It's okay."

"It's okay," Percy repeated, as if he said it enough, he really would be okay. "Alright," he sounded uncertain.

Instead of talking even more, Percy drank a little more of his coffee. They spent ten minutes in silence.

 _I'm gonna try and save you, Perce_ , George thought to himself. _And then you can have more coffee after. And we can go home. We can have your favourite cake, and just talk for hours about whatever you want us to talk about… even if it's boring!_

George got up to leave the room, so that he could call the rest of them in.

 _Don't die, okay?_ George had one more glance towards perfectly composed Percy. _Okay?_

George stayed outside, and he told his family what Percy told him. He didn't really tell him much. There was nothing to say anymore. They knew so much about Percy, and he knew so much about them. At the same time, they were sat there as strangers with red hair, and dotty complexions that got sunburned. The more George just sat there, the more he hated himself for wasting his time with Percy. The more he hated himself that he hadn't said _the right words_.

 _You're right, Perce,_ George thought to himself. He'd been thinking a lot. _I should've taken my O.W.L's._

By the end of the night, most of them had talked to him. It was Ron's turn. So far, nobody really got any answers. George wasn't even sure if they had a question that they wanted to be answered. Percy was okay, and he was not okay. And George didn't know if he wanted Percy to be okay or not if he really did die.

 _I'm sorry, mum,_ George thought to himself, his chest aching. _If Percy dies, I'm sorry._

Time passed by very quickly, and very slowly. George felt exhausted, but he couldn't think of anything but Percy.

Ron ran outside the room only ten minutes after he came in, _"GET INSIDE THE ROOM… NOW!"_

George could remember running into the room and flashes of white into his brain. He remembered his mind thinking of the worst possible case scenario, and he saw Percy looking drowsy. He was so small in his huge gown, his hair a mess, his lips thin and his eyes suddenly looked so wide compared to his skinny face. The nurses were running around, trying to insert magical IV lines in his purple-coloured arm. Percy laid on his side, clinging tightly onto the sheets.

"Hmm?" Percy looked around, like he was just aware of the fact that he caused a ruckus. "O…oh."

 _"WHAT IS WRONG WITH HIM?"_ Bill asked the nearest nurse. George wasn't sure, but he didn't care what was wrong with Percy, just that there _was_ something wrong.

"His fever is very bad," another nurse asked him. "We gave him fever-reducing potions—but they aren't helping."

"Perce," George ran over to him, grabbing Percy's warm and clammy freckled hand. _"PERCE!"_

"Hello," Percy replied, sounding tired. He didn't look up to George, but he squeezed his hand very tightly. Ginny was sat beside him. Ginny's hands were around George's bulging bicep. She had her head into his arm.

Arthur tried to pull Percy up to help him stay awake, but Percy shoved him away. _"NO!"_ Percy yelled.

 _"PERCY!"_ Ron screeched, noticing how close Percy was to closing his eyes. _"GET UP GET UP GET UP!"_

"No," Percy tried to sit up. Arthur tried to help him up, asking him repeatedly if he was okay and Percy continued to repeat _"No, no, no, no, NO!"_ but collapsed as soon as he sat up. He coughed.

Molly pulled a duvet off the duvet off his warm, sweating body. Percy offered her a smile of appreciation and then cocked his head to one side. He looked extremely tired and unhappy. He reached for George's face.

 _"FRED!"_ Percy called out and George's heart stopped in his chest.

"Hey, Perce," George didn't correct him. "Perce, you're so warm."

"Oh," Percy replied, staring at George with that perplexed expression. "I didn't particularly notice!"

After five minutes of giving him more IV cooling potions, Molly asked if she could put on the cooling cream.

She used to do it all the time when they were children. The nurses seemed preoccupied with filling him with as much cooling IV's, melting _Ice Mice_ into water for him to drink and looking for a cooling blanket. After a nod of confirmation from one of the nurses, Molly cleaned her hands with a charm, and put on a pair of gloves.

She shakily pulled up Percy's dressing gown, so she could cover him with a cooling cream.

George thought that his heart was about to rip itself out of his chest when he saw how extremely prominent Percy's thick, smooth ribs and chest bones were, or the fact that his stomach was so concaved that George bet could feel his liver without even really trying. George could see the demarcations in his hipbones that he didn't even know existed. He could see indentations in bones that he didn't even know _existed!_ George didn't know how Percy even sat up without his hipbones tearing through his paper-thin, almost translucent-looking skin.

Molly's hands continued to shake violently. She didn't too keen on applying the cooling cream to his body.

George tried to not notice that he _spello-taped_ his underpants to his body. He watched his father tell Bill to take her away, as he washed his hands and applied a quick cleaning charm with his wand before wearing gloves that were too small for him. Arthur covered Percy in a thin, sheen of cream in seconds and turned Percy to the side so that he was facing George. Percy tightened his hold to George's hand, burying his head into his arm.

Merlin… Percy was hotter than Angelina Johnson in a bikini!

He was crumbling, shoulders shaking. Audrey came around beside him too. George had Ginny holding onto him, Audrey beside him, and Percy clinging onto his arm, staring at him with _disdain_.

"Do you know that I hate you, Fred?" he whispered to George, bleary-eyed. "Did you see what you did to _George?"_

George hated Fred too for what he did to him too. Fred left, and it broke George's heart into a million little pieces. George was suddenly consumed by these overwhelming _feelings_ inside him. He didn't know what feelings were filling him up, but at the same time, he felt so full of feelings that he felt like he was going to explode. At the same time, he didn't really feel anything. But he felt everything all at once. It was so unnerving.

"Yeah, Perce," George replied softly.

Arthur was done applying the cooling cream in seconds, before he pulled up the thin cooling blanket on top of Percy.

Audrey moved to give Percy her smoothie, which looked _cold_. She'd put a couple of packets of _Ice Mice_ in there too, George could see. "Percy," she said in a soft voice. "I…I made this for you. It's a chocolate smoothie… with mice!"

Percy stared at her. His big, bright blue eyes were so glossy. "No."

"No?" She looked like she was about to cry.

He shook his head repeatedly. "No chocolate smoothies. No roast dinners, no, no, no, _NO!"_ Percy said, placing his hands around his ears and George felt like he just stopped breathing witnessing Percy have a psychotic breakdown.

"Don't you want it?" Audrey tried to soothe him. "I made it especially for you… I bought your records!"

Percy started sobbing, and it was a heart-wrenching sight. "I don't deserve to eat," he looked away. "I left, I left, I _left_."

He wasn't talking about Fred. He was talking about before—when he left the house. George remembered their dad telling their mum once that Percy's erratic eating habits started right after he left home, but George didn't really believe that. George did notice that after Percy came back, that he looked smaller than usual. He remembered thinking he was a bloody skeleton then! When Fred died, and they were sat by his body, George thought that Percy was _too thin_.

That was laughable. Slightly underweight Percy back then looked overweight next to the Percy that was lying on the bed now, screeching all over again _"I don't deserve anything, I don't, I don't, I don't,"_ his hands blocking out every sound.

Audrey slowly peeled his hands away from his ears. He shook but didn't push her away.

"It's okay," she whispered, she said to him, very sweetly. "Okay? It's okay, Percy. It's okay."

Percy slowly nodded his head.

She noticed that he'd gone from sweating to shivering, so she put away her smoothie onto the table. Audrey unzipped her coat and placed it over his frame. He immediately huddled into it, burying his head into the thick dark fabric.

If this was any other time in any other situation, George would've told Percy off for looking so small in a _female's coat._

Audrey was sitting on the edge of the bed now, in the awful looking frock George had seen in his life, clinging onto Percy as tightly as she could. He had his arms around himself, refusing to even look at her.

He just shook his head and said the same thing again and again, _"I'm so sorry... I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."_


	29. Chapter 29

_i know that this is the last stretch of the fanfiction and i should be replying to comment replies, but i really don't feel like it. plus, i posted the epilogue right after this. mind you there's a GIGANTIC like breakdown at the end of this encompassing important themes in this story._

* * *

 **Love and Old Black Shoes**

Chapter Twenty-Nine

* * *

Do you know when you have that uncontrollable urge to wake up a dying bloke from his sleep to tell him something important that you might not get to say to him because you're not sure how long he'd live? Because Audrey did.

"Percy," she was shaking him in his hospital cot. Every time she shook him, she could envision Molly asking their wizarding God to please kill her on her way home. Fortunately for her, Molly was asleep now. "Percy… _Percy_."

Percy, drooling all over himself, was annoyed. He refused to open his eyes. "Audrey, this better be important."

 _I think that your records are still awful_ , Audrey wanted to tell him. _Oh, and I hate your hair this short!_

 _I need to feed you about a million smoothies. You're SO sick-looking_.

 _I sort of miss you disinfecting my toilets and making me wake up at five in the morning_.

 _I almost miss your awful watery raisins porridge with honey. Mum misses you too sometimes. My dad asks about you too. He's never asked about anyone I've bought home before… Did you remember what kind of smoothie that I made when you were first around? It was made from frozen strawberries, cocoa, banana and skimmed milk! I hate that combination and only drink it when I'm dieting, but sometimes, when I really miss you, I make myself one! Isn't that sad?_

 _But now when I make one, all I can think about is how skinny you are and-and—it makes me so sad._

"Do you know when I said that I didn't want to marry you because I was scared of falling in love with you and that when you died, I'd be all alone and miserable?" Audrey asked, his lips trembling. She was sure he hadn't forgotten given the fact that he probably hated her for it and spent a week listening to _Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds_.

Percy slowly opened his eyes. "I might recall that event," he said bitterly. "Why are you—"

She pulled him up from the bed, her hands on his cheeks. "I think I love you. I don't know if I'm in love with you, but I know that I am absolutely smitten with you. I can hardly stop thinking about you."

 _"You think you—?"_ Percy reiterated, looking like he was in a state of disbelief.

Audrey wanted to check his temperature just to make sure that he wasn't delirious again. She was _awfully_ upset when he didn't drink that chocolate and mice smoothie. "If I'd have a chance to choose again, I'd have said yes."

Percy stared at her, looking at her with a softness in his eyes. Audrey didn't really understand how Percy didn't doubt her or didn't believe that she was lying. She'd believe that she was lying after all! Because he was dying, _of course_ she was going to say that she loved him, so she didn't feel awful about herself! But then again, _she_ believed him when he told her that he could do magical things, only on the basis that his flat always seemed to be unnaturally clean all the time. He had to be a wizard! Nobody could have their life together and be out the door at five every morning!

"I… I don't know if you believe me," Audrey honestly said in a soft whisper.

"I _don't_ ," Percy said with a soft smile. "You're unbelievable as is, Miss Brown."

"That's hardly appropriate, Mr Weasley," Audrey replied to him quietly, tossing a look over at Arthur and Molly.

Molly was asleep, her head curled up on Arthur's arm and he had his arms around his wife's waist. They'd let them stay the night. Everyone else was soundlessly asleep, with their wands set to alarm them if anything inconspicuous happened. Audrey supposed this meant that she wasn't supposed to shag him now just in case their wands went off… like Audrey could explain herself! _Oh, I was just checking to see if ALL his internal organs were at the right temperature!_

Percy was smiling—that wonderful smile that made her feel annoyed usually, but happy right now.

Meanwhile, Audrey suddenly wondered if Percy and her shagged, would they have babies that were able to make cheese toasties with a flick of an enchanted piece of wood? Could she breast feed them or will they contract fatal illnesses? Audrey came back to reality after a few seconds when she realised Percy was _dying_ and they were _not_ going to have babies. And she wasn't even sure if Percy had enough sperm in his seminal fluid to—well, she wasn't sure if _she_ was fertile either! As Audrey thought about irrelevant things, she stared at Percy with a softness in her eyes.

"Audrey?" Percy stared at her, beaming. "What are you thinking about?" She just flushed.

Percy crossed his arms. "Whatever it is, it's _hardly appropriate_ ," he looked like he was trying not to guffaw.

Well, she could hardly blame him—she was considering shagging a dying bloke! Having his magical babies! Wondering what it was like to breast feed a little tot! It always looked a bit odd to Audrey when a woman whipped her breast out of their old, droopy Marks and Spencer push-ups to feed a little one… especially when it was obvious that said person hadn't done a push-up in the last ten years.

"I don't like you anymore," Audrey decided, pushing him playfully on the shoulder.

He stared at her for a while, just smiling that stupid smile that she sometimes wished she could whip off his face. It was a _very_ smug, annoying smile mind you. Nothing about Percy was ever modest!

"Percy," Audrey's voice was softer now. If it was any softer, he wouldn't be able to hear here. "I-I…"

She placed a hand on his own. "I heard from Bill that you went to see your mates—the ones that _died_ ," her other hand reached for her open purse, and then picked up a bunch of photos sticking out of the corner. She'd made them as accessible as possible since her purse was full of useless junk that she put in there to make it seem like she had lots of important stuff to do so her mother would get off her back. "We helped their mums change their gravestones!"

Percy' smile faded away, and he was staring at her. He looked so sad... Audrey didn't know why!

"Your siblings and I went around to colouring everything!" She went on. Merlin, she wished she'd stopped going on because she didn't know if she was making things better or worse. "There were a few accidents… but-but-but it was very fun… and Bill-Bill said that you'd wanted to do it but hadn't had the chance and-and… _well!"_

She thrust the pictures into Percy's hands, and his facial expression changed as he gawked at them.

"I had to rely on the letters that you sent me," Audrey said. "The owls that I couldn't open, remember? And God, I wish you would've used their names when you were talking because if you did then things would be so much easier! But I've figured it out—well, _I think_ I've figured it out! _I_ didn't have a lot of GSCE's after all!"

Audrey watched how he spent gawking at the photo. The first picture was of Roger's grave. The stone was coloured a nice lavender purple—Audrey picked that one. When Percy met her, he'd given her a letter in that same purple. It was soft and elegant, and Fleur told her that she wore that colour to the Yule Ball because Roger liked it.

 _"PERCY!"_ she was nervous at his silence and didn't care if she'd wake the lot up. "How many wizarding GSCE's did you-you have? How many subjects did you take?" she didn't know if wizards even had wizarding GSCE's.

"All of them," Percy replied emotionlessly without even looking up at her.

There were flowers everywhere, of all kinds, and a picture of Roger smiling after he'd gotten his first ever award in the debate team. It was one that his mother kept framed in the living room. She _loved_ that photo—pity how she'd rather just have him than the photo. Pity how meaningless they were like compared to the person after they'd gone.

"Fleur put flowers there," Audrey mentioned. "She'd charmed them to make them last! I didn't know you could do that, but it explains why all the flowers everywhere in the wizarding graves looked so vibrant and-and…"

She didn't want flowers to last! She wished something could make _Percy_ last for another day, a year… a _decade_. A lifetime.

"Oh," Percy just noticed there was more than one photo and flipped to the second one. _"Oh,"_ his voice softened.

They'd coloured Clarence's stone to one of Percy's favourite colours—and Clarence's too. The colour was a sunny yellow, and there were sunflowers everywhere. She never understood how Percy could like yellow so much.

 _It brightened up the place!_ She remembered him saying once, as he put one yellow pillow in his black-and-white room.

Audrey thought it was very poetic nonetheless. There were so many pictures of Clarence and all the animals that he'd been with, they'd pinned them to the graves with permanent sticking charms! Unfortunately, Audrey's hand got stuck at some point. Well, Clarence couldn't say he'd never been with a _muggle_ now, could he?

"I bought Penelope sunflowers for our first date," he said. "Even if I was allergic, I thought that… _well."_

"That's so sweet," Audrey replied. Him risking anaphylaxis for a girl was sweet? Merlin, she needed some water or a packet of M&S white chocolate rounds with a gigantic cup of coffee instead. "Um… you don't need to bring me any sunflowers any time soon. I mean… if you thought you wanted to… before you-you— _um_ …"

"I personally wouldn't," Percy replied, pulling his glasses up his nose. "You don't like sunflowers."

The last photo Percy saw was Thierry Rossignol's. What a name! Audrey remembered thinking when she'd heard it.

 _"Hmm,"_ Percy smiled, and it was a very sad smile. " _I've_ never seen anything like that! Merlin!"

Audrey had all of Percy's letters about him wrapped in bottles covered with roses. Audrey wasn't sure what to paint this one, so she had the Charlie and George have a whack at it. It ended up being pretty much every colour imaginable—very beautiful and shockingly gaudy. Well, some people might think that he might've been bent (it was never specified in the letters that he _wasn't_ , so there was a possibility, right?).

Audrey still thought it was fitting for a bloke that wanted to show off all the time from what she'd read in his letters.

"I think that it's very modern," Audrey argued. "I think that it's very sleek and wonderful and—"

"I'm not sure what to say about this," Percy cut her off, but he seemed to brighten up a little. He looked floored.

She wondered if he'd mind that George nearly cracked his head on his grave. There might be some blood, but it just bought in that extra artistic touch in it, didn't it? Besides, it was almost tragic! And romantic! If…

 _If you were a bloody thirsty vampire_ , Audrey shuddered. God, she hoped _those things_ didn't exist! Disgusting! She didn't want to be wary of vampires attacking her when she was busy changing her tampons.

On less bloody notes, the families seemed to be pleased that they decorated their graves. The war robbed them off so much! Audrey listened to Regina Davis talk about how they'd stolen everything from her. She was so depressed she hadn't really thought much to decorating anything. They said that it was nice that they were really _celebrating_ them. Regina asked a few questions about Percy too, about how he was, and George just smiled and said everything was fine. Audrey wondered why people did that—say things were fine, when they were crumbling right before their eyes!

 _It is so sad,_ Fleur told her that one time. Audrey should have watched how Fleur breast-fed because maybe she would understand the mechanics of breast-feeding magical babies. _So many people died zat we have lost count!_

"Percy?" Audrey said in a soft voice. "Say something else. Do you still want to… to talk about sunflowers?"

"I've never had anyone do something like this for me," Percy seemed genuinely surprised—and touched.

She reached over towards him and ran her hand through that little tuft of hair that he'd grown. It was thinner than she'd remembered it. "Well, now you have," Audrey said in a very soft voice. "Percy?"

"Yes?" he said in a very soft whisper. "What is it, Audrey?"

" _I'm_ going to make sure that your family is okay if… if something happens to you," Audrey said, and she didn't want to promise it. He looked at her, and he looked like he was about to cry from how grateful he was for her.

"Oh," he said that before. He looked like he'd just realised something about her. "I…well, I—"

Audrey wondered if she'd spewed out something horrible and inconsiderate. She couldn't remember what she said!

"I made something for you," Percy said, and then pulled a pink journal out of a rucksack. It was very glittery.

Audrey reluctantly accepted it but didn't even stare at it in awe. Even though Percy once told her that she was more distracted than a _'Niffler'_ (whatever in God that was) when it came to shiny things, she wasn't the least bit interested in what the book might contain as much as she was interested in the fact that Percy's eyes shone with an intensity that would make stars jealous. His eyes were so, _SO_ blue it was ridiculous. Her heart was beating fast in her chest and…

"To be opened in the event of my death," Percy said strictly. If his eyes were very blue then, they weren't now.

Audrey nodded her head curtly. "Okay," she said in a whisper. "But I'd prefer it if you don't… _well_ …"

"So, I hear," Percy said and then beamed at her again. Okay, _NOW_ that smile was getting annoying!

Audrey stayed with him that night. Penelope Clearwater visited them late at night—or rather, that morning. She was wearing nice robes and she looked very pretty. Audrey wondered how _she_ managed to do that! Percy rummaged through his rucksack to show a doll that he'd re-stitched for Penelope, a doll she accepted with shaking hands.

"Percy," Penelope looked at him with a softness in his eyes. "I left Oliver," she said, and Audrey didn't know who Oliver was, or why it was so important to mention this piece of information to Percy _right now_.

Percy's facial expression was stoic. He turned his head to the side. "Oh," he didn't sound happy anymore.

"Nolene is downstairs with some of the nurses," Penelope said, swaying on the balls of her feet.

Audrey watched Penelope clinging onto the doll like it was a key to all her life woes. "I'm sorry," she added on.

" _I'm_ sorry too," Percy replied, and he stared at her with the most coldness in his eyes that she'd ever seen. The coldness in his eyes disappeared in seconds, when he saw teardrops running down Penelope's cheeks. Audrey didn't know what went on between them, but whatever it was didn't seem very healthy. "Come here."

Penelope leaned down beside him, and Audrey's heart stopped into her chest.

He sat up properly, pulled her chin up and leaned forward to plant a kiss on her forehead.

"Where are you going to go?" Percy asked, his voice very soft. He cleared his throat. "If you're not particularly sure, I know that there's this apartment complex next to the hospital that…"

Audrey blocked out the rest of what Percy was saying.

"…and it has wonderful curry place right next to it…" that made a weeping, sniffling Penelope laugh.

Audrey was more interested in contemplating their relationship than she really listening what he was saying.

Audrey wondered if Percy still loved Penelope. It seemed like he did. He didn't want to, but he did. Audrey didn't know how she felt about that. She didn't feel jealous— _how could she be?_ Percy was dying and needed all the love that he could get, even if it was from his very attractive ex-fiancée. If Audrey was jealous of Penelope under _these_ circumstances, then she'd feel the most undeserving bitch in the world. Percy probably knew this girl for so long—even if they hadn't had a romantic relationship, he'd probably still act the same way.

"…but the apartment is very clear about its rules," after he said that, he smirked. "No centaurs allowed."

She was jolted back into reality when Penelope started laughing. Audrey noticed that Percy was beaming.

"Percy!" Penelope looked like she wanted to scold them. "You're awful! You're absolutely awful!"

"I am most definitely not," Percy crossed his arms, attempting to seem stern. He was still grinning. Audrey suddenly remembered the way that they were laughing when Penelope did his first examination post-discharge. "Audrey, Audrey," he looked over at her with a similar excitement, "Tell me the truth—if I tell you that I'm considering on marrying a centaur because they have the most wonderful face I've ever seen, is it not considered bestiality?"

"And what about marrying werewolves then? _You_ seem to be keen on that!" Penelope reminded him. "The way that you were looking at the-the cashier for Tomes and Scrolls when we used to visit them at Hogwarts! He tells me off all the time because I find a certain French politician that so happens to be a centaur… _interesting!"_

Percy just shrugged his shoulders. "You're the same person that believes that people like Bill should fit underneath the werewolf classification! The only thing dangerous about Bill in the full moon are his mood swings. _Wow!_ It is the same thing as transforming into a being that could tear you limb from limb!"

Audrey was amazed at how they were talking about something so _pathetic_. She didn't participate in their conversation.

"Well, you never know!" Penelope argued, but then her smile disappeared. "Well… well…"

She looked at the clock at the end of the room and her face turned beetroot red. "I-I… I have to go."

Before Penelope left, she shuffled her feet a little and looked like she was going to cry, as if they weren't just laughing a few minutes ago. She lunged herself at him, hugging him tightly. "Percy, I…!" She looked like trying to say something, but her words were caught into her throat. Her lip wobbled instead, and she broke down into sobs.

Percy didn't say anything to her then, but he watched her cry for a while.

Audrey flickered her eyes back at his family, watching them all asleep. She wondered what kind of alert their wands had to have to wake them up if all this ruckus didn't yet!

"I _wish_ that things didn't have to turn out like this," Penelope said, voice soft. "We could've been a wonderful thing."

"We _were_ a wonderful thing," Percy corrected. "That was your problem, Penelope. You didn't see that!"

"Yes," Penelope agreed. Audrey briefly wondered what Percy did to Penelope or what Percy did to Penelope that left their relationship suspended in this… very confusing state. "But-but just because _I_ couldn't love you doesn't mean that you're incapable of being loved, you know? Well, at least I hope to Merlin that…"

There was a lapse of silence and Audrey sloshed that sentence around in her brain for a little bit.

"Oh," Penelope stared at him. It didn't take any wizarding centaur expert to know that Percy _didn't_ know.

Did he really think that? Audrey's heart sunk. That because Penelope could've love him, that he didn't feel like he was incapable of being loved? Because of the spiff that happened with his family, that he was incapable of—

"You _DO_ know that, don't you?" Penelope broke Audrey out of her train of thought. "Don't you?"

Percy stared at her with a seriousness in his face. He didn't reply to her question.

"Oh, Percival," Penelope reached over to caress his cheek, and this time, Audrey did feel disdain—not towards Penelope but towards herself for not knowing. "You break my heart sometimes… _and_ you're such a twat."

"I'm well-aware," Percy replied, giving her a slight smile. He cleared his throat. "Well, you best be going."

That was his politest way of telling her to get out. When she left, Audrey wondered if she was supposed to talk about her or ask questions. She didn't have to wonder because Percy told her what happened with Penelope.

Percy told her about how they met and how she'd offered him a Cornish pasty. He told her about their late-night rendezvouses in abandoned classrooms, and how her hair used to be so long. He talked about how nice her curls used to be. He told her about how smart she was, and how they bought their first apartment together. He told her about the row that he had with his family—and exactly what he'd said. Percy told her about how it felt like to sleep in his first night of a flat alone, and how she showed up in the middle of the night. He told her about how she used to pack his lunch for him to take to the Ministry when she noticed him becoming smaller.

It was getting lighter and lighter outside—and Audrey's eyes were getting heavier and heavier.

He told her about how she told him that she was pregnant, about going to the first healer's appointment for it, and hearing her throw up pink sludge in the toilets in the morning. He told her about how she'd craved substitute chocolates filled with magically created sweeteners and very little actual cocoa beans. He told her about how she felt disgusting in her maternity robes. He told her about how she lied to him about their _baby_. He told her about how he left her, and how he'd written the suicide notes he'd burned in the unicorn ink that she used to love so much.

"Well, _I'd_ always thought I was incapable of being loved," Percy admitted, his voice stern. "But I believe that—around the time that I'd left my family, I believed that… perhaps, I just simply didn't deserve it."

Audrey cocked her head to one side. "I wish you'd have—"

 _"Told someone?"_ Percy raised an eyebrow. "It's become the recurrent theme of your confrontations with me thus far."

Audrey didn't find it as funny as he did. "You should've," she told him very softly. "We do want to listen. Even your brother there with _one_ bloody ear would've listened if you'd… if you'd said _SOMETHING!_ "

Percy slowly shook his head. "It is particularly hard to get ideas into their head sometimes."

"Because _your_ ideas are convoluted, not because people aren't willing to listen to them," Audrey told him, and she wasn't about to sugar-coat it either. "You _complicate_ things beyond necessity. And you didn't have to, but you assume that you do and… you hurt yourself and by the time that people notice, it's so well-engrained into your mind it's become a part of your personality because by then it's been _YEARS_ , Percival. And that's… that's…"

 _UGH!_ Did he not know that they needed a book just to learn how to manoeuvre around him?

"Oh," Percy said that a lot. He realised a lot of _new_ things today.

"Did you not notice that you did that?" Audrey asked.

He shook his head. "Not in particularly," he swallowed the lump in his throat. "No."

"You blame yourself for all this _rubbish_ that you'd done to them," Audrey watched him nod his head. Yes, he could follow her there. "Your family blame themselves for the things they'd done to you. But everyone in your family is at fault—including you, Percival, but _not_ for the reasons that you think."

He didn't look like he followed her. "Excuse me, I—"

"Percy, you're _alone_ in _your_ head when you're suffering!" Audrey tried to tell him. "You tend to… tend to make up all these ideas about how people don't like you or why you shouldn't tell them something. You didn't even tell anyone you were _sad_ , so how could they possibly have known that you were considering something of this magnitude without a single word from you about how—…but they _DID_ notice."

"They noticed?" Percy echoed, with a confused facial expression. "Well—"

"They didn't notice what you wanted them to notice because that's virtually impossible unless they could read your mind, but they noticed _your weight!"_ Audrey tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Because _it's obvious!_ They _told_ you to eat, Percy, but you didn't. You chose _not_ to do it, because for some reason, you think _you_ don't deserve it!"

Percy opened his mouth to argue, but he didn't. "Oh," he repeated.

"Do you understand what I'm saying?" Audrey asked, seeing him sober up to his Percy-ness. "Because _I_ don't know how anyone could've known what was going on in your head if you hadn't told them. In your head, everything seems to go in such a certain way that's so definite and—and-and-and it's wrong."

She shook her head. "You're _WRONG_ , Percy!" she said. _"YOU'RE WRONG!"_

Audrey didn't know if she hated herself for saying that, or if she said something important.

Percy stared at her, like he was trying to psycho-analyse her too. Ha. Audrey hoped he never did because he'd have a field day trying to find out why she kissed that eighteen-year-old bloke when she was sixteen. Audrey still hadn't figured that out herself!

"And…" he smiled now, clearly impressed. "You said you only had a few GSCE's?"

Audrey sighed deeply. "I hate you," she said. "Admit that you're wrong."

"Never," Percy crossed his arms over his chest. "Nobody will ever know."

Audrey rolled her eyes. She bet she'd have failed all his important subjects if she'd ever gone to Hogwarts. She'd barely scraped through the few GSCE's that she had—she thought the telly was more important. She didn't know what the wizarding version of the telly was, but she'd probably be equally obsessed with it.

"Do you remember when this became such a problem for you?" Audrey asked. " _Talking_ to people about things?"

"I…" Percy cleared his throat. "I suppose I stopped talking to people a long time ago—well, after my mum took me to be evaluated for autism when I was a child. It was not… a pleasant experience for someone my age."

 _He supposed?_ Audrey was amazed that he remembered the exact moment that he'd stopped talking about his feelings. _She_ couldn't even remember the exact moment that she'd lost her virginity in high school!

Percy smiled weakly. "Well, I assume it's too late for a start-over then, isn't it?"

"There you go again, Percival! _Assuming things!"_ Audrey shook her head and stuck her hand out for his.

Percy shook his head. "This isn't necessary, Audrey. I…"

"Percy," she glared at him coldly and he nodded his head, smiling now.

"My name is Audrey Brown," she said, and she was trying not to smile. "I'm an experienced barista slash awful business student slash disappointment of the family but _without_ the convoluted thoughts of another person that I know… well, you don't know him. He's a broomstick in the mud."

She knew that was not a real expression because Percy looked like he was trying not to laugh.

Percy shook her hand, firmly. "My name is Percival Weasley. I am unemployed despite my extensive qualifications and wizarding GSCE's. I just discovered I am not the disappointment of the family, and apparently, have been blaming a _lot_ of people for a miscommunication error where I am most at fault for."

" _And_ you are loved despite that," Audrey told him.

Percy smiled. "And I am _very_ loved despite the that," he said. "And I am a prat."

Audrey wanted to tell him something, but she felt her limbs get heavier and she leaned forward. She remembered resting her head onto Percy's freckled arm but remembered very little else.

She had a dream that she was in a field of sunflowers. Nothing happened in the dream, nothing at all. The sun didn't set, the sunflowers didn't die, and the wind was cold against her face. It was a very stupid dream.

When she woke up that morning, her head felt very heavy. Her eyelids were blurry.

A nurse woke Percy up to prick him so that she could check the levels of potion in his blood.

Audrey was clinging onto Percy's arm, burying her head into it.

"It might not work," George said repeatedly in his dreams. He was shaking now, his legs huddled up into his chest. "It might not work," he repeated, his arms were shaking, and he sounded like he was so scared.

Audrey shook him awake, not bearing to have him like that. He snapped his eyes open almost immediately.

He placed his hand on his chest, looking down at the floor. Audrey couldn't imagine what he might be feeling—a heart attack? Did George have angina? A panic attack? Did his heart just beat really fast? Did he just place his hand on his chest and look down at the floor every time that he woke up? Audrey wouldn't know.

As George's breathing slowed down, he looked up at Audrey with big eyes. "Percy's okay?"

Audrey slowly nodded her head. "Yeah, he is," she offered a watery smile, reaching out for George's sweaty, clammy hand and then squeezed it. "I think I got through to him a little. About the suicide, about… a lot of things."

George looked at her with a surprised expression. "Yeah?" he asked.

"Yeah," she confirmed, smiling a little.

"You're a real good person, Audrey," George said, looking down at his feet again as he bit his wobbly lip. He looked up to face her now, his eyes very big, brown and sincere. "Percy is lucky to have you around."

Audrey felt happy to hear him say those words.

"That's odd," the nurse said, pulling the needle out. "There's no more potion in your blood. Not at all."

She pricked him again with another thin, sharp needle in a different place and got the same result.

" _That's_ impossible," Percy decided, shaking his head in complete and utter disbelief as he noticed the confident looking green at the tip of… whatever that was. "That would require nothing short of a miracle for me to—"

Audrey watched George's face contort with recognition, as he got up from where he sat. He ran over to Percy, wrapping his arms around him as tightly as he could and nearly crushing him in the process.

 _"IT WORKED IT WORKED IT WORKED!"_ George shouted happily. "Now, who's the poor sod that doubted _ME?!"_

* * *

 ** _End notes before the epilogue:_**

 _There are several recurrent themes in this fanfiction. There were super obvious ones, i.e. Percy's feeling of being neglected, feeling unloved, rejected, isolated, his fear of dying alone or him being alone, George's fear of heights and mentioning of the ladder and Audrey's smoothie making. Almost every memory that was reminisced for in this fanfiction was mentioned later, i.e. Percy mentioning that he'd stopped talking much about himself after the autistic evaluation because of how unpleasant the experience was for him. Molly even mentions the change in her POV. There is also a lot of hypocrisy on Percy's end, because as he mentioned, he had a very violent event happen in his childhood that haunted him later as an adolescent and as an adult and was mentioned to be where he had driven his idea to torture himself in such a manner. But when he tortures himself in that way, he gives Bill PTSD because of it and Percy, in turn, feels guilty that he subjected people to the very thing that he'd been trying to run away from._

 _If I spent time talking about the things in the paragraph above, I'll probably take way more space than I want to. I'll talk about some other not-as-obvious ones below to help tie everything all together:_

 _The first one is a lot of this fanfiction is spent with **people discovering things about other people** , especially in a familial setting. It is mostly referring to people discovering things about Percy. This is obviously because this whole fanfiction is about him, but there were a few moments where it was the other way around. The most obvious example is people continuing to doubt George's potion-making to the point where he begins to wonder if his potion is good enough, or Percy being shocked to discover that Charlie managed to make Arthur an addict. Another big example is Charlie mentioning that he couldn't go back to Romania because he'd been abusing potions. In Audrey's analysis of Percy, she mentioned to Percy that he is very much 'in his head'—and he is. He is so much in his head he hadn't thought to ask himself why Charlie was still with them a year after Fred's death when he used to work in Romania. _

**_This_** _is another part of the **hypocrisy plotline** for Percy (who wonders how people didn't notice that he wasn't alright for a year when Percy didn't think to ask Charlie about why he hadn't gone back to Romania for a year). He excessively blames himself for not knowing this afterwards, indirectly making it about himself again. This is a common theme in the story itself—that Percy unintentionally makes things about himself because we are in his head constantly. We rarely ever break away from his POV pre-suicide plotline. We only saw what he saw for a very long period of time. _

_He victimises himself a lot, which Audrey, again, she mentions is 'in his head' because he doesn't sit down to talk to anyone about this during this whole story. He gets frequently annoyed when people tell him to eat or when they comment on his appearance. They confront him frequently about it, and he waves it off._

 _Audrey mentioned again, that people did notice that he was struggling but they didn't notice what he wanted them to notice. He brushed off the points where Molly or Charlie drop plates when he wears very tight clothing, or when people tell him off for how he looks or being asleep for very long periods of time. At the same time, he had not given them any indication that something was so severely wrong that he was contemplating harming himself in that way. When you think about it, the only thing he really projected is probably extremely irregular eating and sleeping schedules—which most of them have, e.g. Molly sleeping for days and binge eating in the beginning or George not sleeping for days even with various sleeping potions. Even towards the wedding plotline, we know how much Percy toiled away to buy dress robes but we, as the audience, only know this. Percy does not mention it when he talks to others. It remains as this internalised pain inside of him that he cannot cope with—and it twists his view of others because they didn't notice. But the biggest problem is really himself._

 _He is a victim of his own complex most of all. Everything about him must be **perfectly** worded and all his actions calculated (which Charlie then concludes is one of the big reasons he Percy does not want to go to therapy. Because he doesn't want to lose that 'mask' and it's hard for him to begin to contemplate losing it) but that mask, in turn, is destroying Percy's ability to communicate with others. That miscommunication issue that Percy talks about constantly in this fanfiction is a symptom of a bigger problem with the rest of the Burrow, but he is one of the biggest part of the miscommunication throughout this whole fanfiction. Again, he is hypocritical in that sense (and probably a faulty narrator, but ah, I still love him). He notices people have a lot of miscommunication between them and wants them to smooth it out, but he miscommunicates constantly. _

_In the beginning, George and Ginny took to defending him a lot—and if there was nobody defending him, Percy didn't defend himself as he was supposed to. He skittered around the issue a lot more than he stuck up for himself._

 _There was a lot of talk about **past, presence, future and time** itself in this fanfiction. Percy constantly feels like time is moving very quickly or is unaware of time, but this is mostly because he is so stuck in the past! He spends blocks and chunks of paragraphs loathing himself or remembering what he did in the past, or how things were like in the past. He reminisces a lot. Some of the events feel very slow or fast by his standards. The whole post-suicide plotline went very fast in comparison pre-suicide (where Percy did a **lot** of waiting for his potion to be ready). Though Molly's POV is not touched upon often, she, too, is very engrained in the past as evident by the way that she yelled at Percy for changing the wallpaper (one of the most important scenes in this fanfiction) and she holds great contempt for him for doing this. She is time-confused like Percy. She tries later to cope with problems by pretending that they don't exist, or that they didn't happen. She is stuck in the past for so many points of this fanfiction that she suddenly snaps back into reality, and she tries her hardest to make situations as easy as possible by avoiding confronting them (i.e. not wanting George and Percy to be in the same room after George's temper tantrums) because she doesn't do well with change / is exhausted by it / doesn't want confrontation. She, like Percy, reminisces a lot. At the last chapter, she tries to cover him with a cooling cream like she did when they were children. She frequently cooks the same foods and because Percy associates it with the time he left the Burrow, he rejects it continuously because he believes he doesn't deserve it. This perpetuates this exhaustive cycle where he loses weight and hates himself for how he looks, but because of how low he feels, he continues to do the same thing over and over again! _

_If you noticed and go way back, when Percy was trying to force himself to eat food, he had gone to the point where he would eat rotten food or food that he doesn't like to try and get past that feeling. From Chapter 10, "He didn't know why he sat in the muggle bus all by himself, as he greedily chowed down on a whole tray of shortbread biscuits—and his rotten banana. Or at least he tried to. Percy ate three shortbread biscuits, and half his banana before he found himself getting off at a stop that wasn't his and violently vomiting all over the street." George keeps on making fun of Percy for eating very bland food groups and Percy restricts his diet. He tries to tell himself it is because of health, but then he goes and does something like eat a block of full-fat cheese he hates._

 _Arthur, Ron and Charlie could be grouped together in one, because they had similar reactions. They all fell into addictive behaviours to cope with their situation but for different reasons. Ron has a lot of internalised anger (and sadness, which he typically conveys as anger but fails later in the fanfiction) whilst Charlie is predominantly of sadness and desperation but then converts to anger and resentment for Percy and himself. Arthur drinks or turns to illegal potions because he can't find an immediate solution and is overwhelmed or anxious about what has been happening. He does not want to admit this, however, but he is not sure of what to do most of the time. The result is the same. Rehab is mentioned for Charlie and Arthur, but the details of which I couldn't write because of a severe writer's block but the point was that they were not miraculously healed. After the rehab program, Arthur continues to drink at night. Ron is frequently fighting with Harry about his drinking. It is even mentioned towards the end that they try to hide these habits. In Arthur's chapter, he mentions that even when he isn't drinking does not mean that he is necessary coping well with what happened. Meanwhile, Charlie does not engage in the habits, but is preoccupied with the thoughts of them 24/7._

 _Ginny is probably the only character that attempted to really cope during this whole fanfiction. For about 90% of it, she seemed fine but there was anger she had for Fred and Percy for leaving which was only really touched on after Percy didn't show up to her wedding. She ran hot and cold for a little bit of the fanfiction, mostly regarding others. She probably focuses a lot on how other people are doing more than she does herself, e.g. her noticing Molly wasn't doing well and leaving after her to calm her down._

 _George is super interesting, because he was a very unstable character. If there is one character that is even more time-confused than Percy, it would be George. The first five days of the fanfiction that Percy was not there for set the mood for the fanfiction—and it was implied that George was borderline psychotic during this time and very destructive of things around him. He was the catalyst for everyone else's behaviour for **months**. Every character was very self-centred around themselves most of the time and George was no exception. He went through months of being in a very self-centred daze where he was in so much pain he could only think of himself—or this was, as told by Percy, who is not a very reliable narrator either (as I hoped it came across). George sometimes got very bad and at times, was very good. He had a trouble gauging when he was supposed to be 'okay' with Fred's death, or what he was 'allowed' to do—in a similar way that Percy gauges what he can say something, or how he analyses situations in his head. _

_Another super important theme that was sort-of-obvious-sort-of-not was **CHOCOLATE**. _

_The 'love' part in **'Love and Old Black Shoes** ' was referring to chocolate, because love was supposed to symbolised entirely by chocolate in this fanfiction. Dark chocolate was supposed to be very bitter love, milk a moderate or balanced and white is supposed to be out of balance, very overprotective and overly sweet, almost suffocating love. _

_Bill says that he eats plenty of chocolate with Fleur and he feels like he doesn't need to eat chocolate from his mum's house. This simply means that he feels like he has a lot of love between him and Fleur and doesn't feel like he needs to compensate by looking for his mother's attention. In later chapters, it is evident that Charlie hates chocolate, but he starts bringing piles of it into the house because Fred was allergic to it (and is dead. Poor Fred), and they never had it in the house before. I want to leave this there without a lot of probing, because I have so many mini theories I made with this, but the best always comes from the readers._

 _George and Arthur were mentioned to like chocolate bars with a 'lot' of things in them. This is a reference to very complicated love, which explains George's instability throughout the fanfiction and Arthur's inability to cope or his overwhelmed feelings towards the situation that almost buries the love that he has for his children. Molly's liked hers 'warm, gooey and baked into a dessert' as said by Percy. This was a reference mostly to the past where she used to bake a lot of things for them, and Percy reminisces about this as well. This was another link towards the fact that both Molly and Percy are very stuck in the past and are muddled about the present a lot._

 _Percy mentions that Audrey's chocolates must be 'overpriced' but this is not a reflection on Audrey as much as it is the reference on Percy and Audrey's relationship. At the time he mentions to the Bill, he remembers that Audrey makes him laugh and how much he likes her. Ginny was mentioned to 'not want it that much' but still had a lot of it. Ron mentioned about how he likes to share his chocolate, which is rather sweet (ha!) when you think about it. This is a reference to Ron sharing his things with Harry in the books._

 _Even though we don't know anything about Percy's mates apart from what we've seen because they're dead, he mentions that Thierry died choking on gritty chocolate ice-cream and how he typically eats excessive amounts of it, but it was never enough for him. Roger, like Percy, believed he didn't 'deserve' to have any. Clarence tried to substitute it, and it was mentioned that Penelope also tried to substitute her chocolates during her pregnancy, which of course was a reference to her affair with Oliver Wood. Victoire's milk chocolate endeavours were not random and were only mentioned for this very reason._

 _Percy spent most of this fanfiction eating dark chocolate. I probably mentioned it once or twice every few chapters. In fact, Hermes used to give him dark chocolate and almond butter flapjacks. Percy does also mention, however, that his favourite is that white chocolate—being overbearing, smothering love that he wants but has never conveyed until much, much later in the fanfiction when he's talking to Bill. He exclusively eats dark chocolate. This is a reference to his line about what he thinks he deserves and him swallowing the 'bitter pill' about what he believes about himself. Nobody forces him to eat it, but he forces himself to eat it regardless. At the last few chapters, he mentions he's been choking on that bitter love and unable to swallow it anymore, which compounds his weight loss because it is one of his major sources of food for him. He talks to Bill about it, and Percy conclude that maybe he should turn it into a smoothie. This comes in full-circle during this whole fanfiction._


	30. Chapter 30

_i double posted! guys, don't read the epilogue before you read the last chapter of this fanfiction! honestly, this was supposed to end with Percy dying but i physically could not write it. this fanfiction has been saturated with so much angst that if i attempt to write a death scene, it just wouldn't translate well. i discussed this with my friend, who said she liked this idea too. hopefully, it comes off as a nice ending that is not **too** predictable. the last thing i want is a final note that is insanely predictable. _

* * *

**Love and Old Black Shoes**

Epilogue

* * *

Audrey woke up to the sound of _irritating, jarring_ music playing all over their flat! She groaned as she got up from her bed, wearing nothing but a thin pearl-white nightgown. It was just another Tuesday morning.

Her hair was a state, her belly was full of two beautiful babies and… it was just another Tuesday morning.

She looked at herself in the mirror. Audrey looked better after she took her W.O.M.B.A.T's the first time!

But that was before Percy decided to remind her that having multiple babies was not uncommon in his family! Audrey was huffing and puffing by the third month, but her mother was obsessed with the fact that Audrey was having _twins_. Audrey was dreading the idea of going into labour and pushing out _two_ sprogs.

Percy was too… mostly because she told him that she refused to have an epidural.

 _Fine, then **I'll** have it_, he told her, looking shockingly white after he realised he wasn't swaying her by any means.

"It's torturous, isn't it?" Audrey asked Hermes, who was fantasised by the muggle ultrasound pictures on that they kept by the window for him to admire. " _I_ got married to that bastard a year ago and he still insists on making me listen to this _every single morning!_ Sod those strawberry fields… _I'm_ going to burn them all myself!"

Audrey tossed a look at the mirror again and debated whether she should doll up today or not to. She was sure that they weren't visiting the Burrow or going out in public today… well, not for long enough to matter anyway.

"I smashed all his records yesterday!" she ranted to Hermes. "How could he have bought new ones so quick?"

She _always_ did herself up to the nines before she got married, but she didn't care anymore.

What was the point anyway? Percy would snog her even if he didn't know exactly what colour her hair was after her botchy dye-job a few weeks ago. He forgave her when she stole his razor because she was too lazy to go shopping for her own and he didn't seem to mind when a month would pass, and she hadn't shaved her legs because there was a great big bulging stomach in her way. He also continued to praise her mum's cooking and then managed to scoff it _all_ whilst Audrey feigned lack of appetite. Audrey had to usually deal with him afterwards when Percy woke up at three in the morning because of irretractable stomach pains from her mum's chili con carne.

 _Audrey, I'm sure that woman is trying to poison me_ , an irritated Percy would tell her the next morning.

 _She is_ , Audrey replied to him the next morning, fixing his tie before he put on his Ministry robes to go off to his job. It was nice to know that he could fit into clothes again. _But you're very polite about it._

 _"PERCY! WHAT DID I TELL YOU ABOUT PUTTING THE BEATLES ON! AND WHEN DID YOU HAVE THE TIME YESTERDAY TO BUY NEW RECORDS!"_ Audrey broke four of Percy's other records, but the bastard didn't give up.

Audrey walked out of her room, noticing that Percy had stopped the song halfway through. She walked into the room, watching him pool a smoothie into two separate cups. She was sure it was their now standard milk chocolate, milk and bananas smoothie—two things that she'd had a gigantic craving for since her pregnancy.

Audrey looked for a record. "Do you know what, Percy? I'm making Cornish pasties for lunch."

"I don't mind them at all anymore. I actually quite like them now," Percy reminded her, as she searched the house for the new record that he bought. She was going to feed _that_ to him for lunch instead. "Audrey? Love… come on!"

"Percival, I hate you," Audrey decided. "I absolutely bloody hate you… _I'm_ going to divorce you."

"You said you would yesterday, but you didn't," Percy reminded her with a coy smile. "Swear on it."

"Fuck you," Audrey hissed at him. Percy just shrugged and replied, " _You_ did, love. That's why we're in this mess."

She crouched down into different places trying to find where he kept those records, but she couldn't find that blasted thing! She didn't find out where his new record was until the next morning when she'd went to make them a milk chocolate, banana and milk smoothie for breakfast whilst he was taking his morning shower.

 _"PERCY!"_ Audrey was going to slaughter him. Every day was a new bloody adventure with him—did you know he insisted on visiting the French Ministry when they were on their honeymoon? " _WHY IS MY BLENDER SINGING?"_

* * *

 _one final note that i couldn't add in the note in the last chapter:_ _At the epilogue, it's mentioned that Percy 'likes Cornish pasties now'—when he repeatedly mentions he hates them. This was put there because it means that Percy is ready to accept the form of concern / worry others had for him instead of hating them for not knowing exactly what he was thinking._


End file.
